Tales  of  the  Road 


'HE  IS  THE  STEAM— AND  A  BIG   PART  OF  THE  ENGINE  TOO- 
THAT  MAKES  BUSINESS  MOVE." 


TALES  OF  THE  ROAD 


CHARLES  N.  CREWDSON 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  J.  J.   GOULD 


CHICAGO 

THOMPSON  &  THOMAS 
1905 


GENERAL; 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
The  Curtis  Publishing  Company. 

Copyright,  1905,  by 
The  Curtis  Publishing  Company. 

Copyright,  190$,  by 
Charles  N.  Crewdson. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall. 


First  Edition, 
September  i,  1905. 

Second  Edition, 
October  i,  190$. 

Third  Edition, 
October  10,  1905. 


It.  R.  DONNELLEY  &  SONS  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


Dedicated  to  Alex  C  Ritchey,  Salesman, 
the  Author's  Friend. 


CONTENTS, 


I  The  square  deal  wins 15 

II  Clerks,    cranks    and   touches 35 

III  Social   arts  as   salesmen's  assets 52 

IV  Tricks  of  the  trade 68 

V  The  helping  hand 85 

VI  How  to  get  on  the  road 102 

VII  First  experiences  in  selling 118 

VIII  Tactics  in  selling— 1 139 

IX  Tactics  in  selling— II 161 

X  Tactics  in  selling — III 176 

XI  Cutting  prices ^ 194 

XII  Canceled  orders ^ 207 

XIII  Concerning   credit  men 228 

XIV  Winning  the  customer's  good  will 250 

XV  Salesmen's  don'ts 271 

XVI  Merchants  the  salesman  meets 294 

XVII  Hiring  and  handling  salesmen 319 

XVIII  Hearts  behind  the  order  book 342 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


He  is  the  steam— and  a  big  part  of  the  engine 

too — that  makes  business  move Frontispiece 

Larry  let  business  drop  entirely  and  danced  a  jig 33 

"Whenever  I  let  go  the  buggy  handle  the  baby  yelled" 57 

"To-night  we  dance,  to-morrow  we  sell  clothes  again" 63 

"I  listened  to  episodes  in  the  lives  of  all  those  seven 

children  " 83 

"  I  braced  the  old  man — It  wasn't  exactly  a  freeze  but 

there  was  a  lot  of  frost  in  the  air  " 105 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  his  place  " 11$ 

"  My  stomach  was  beginning  to  gnaw,  but  I  didn't 

dare  go  out " 137 

"In  big  headlines  I  read  'Great  Fire  in  Chicago'" 149 

"  Well,  Woody,"  said  he,  "  You  seem  to  be  taking  things 

pretty  easy  " 154 

"You'd  better  write  that  down  with  a  pencil"  said  Harry..  181 

"Shure,  that  cigare  is  a  birrd" 188 

"He  came  in  with  his  before  breakfast  grouch" 221 

"  I'm  treed  "  said  the  drayman.  "  They're  as  heavy 

as  lead  " 227 

"What  explanation  have  you  to  make  of  this,  sir?" 235 

"He  tried  to  jolly  her  along,  but  she  was  wise" 339 


The  author  wishes  to  acknowl- 
edge his  special  debt  of  gratitude 
to  the  SATURDAY  EVENING  POST, 
of  Philadelphia. 


Tales  of  the  Road. 


CHAPTER.!,      L .  .      k 

THE  SQUARE  DEAL  WINS. 

ALESMANSHIP  is  the  business  of  the 
world ;  it  is  about  all  there  is  to  the  world 
of  business.  Enter  the  door  of  a  success- 
ful wholesale  or  manufacturing  house  and 
you  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  an  establishment  rep- 
resented by  first-class  salesmen.  They  are  the  steam 
— and  a  big  part  of  the  engine,  too — that  makes 
business  move. 

I  saw  in  print,  the  other  day,  the  statement  that 
salesmanship  is  the  "fourth  profession."  It  is  not; 
it  is  the  first.  The  salesman,  when  he  starts  out  to 
"get  there,"  must  turn  more  sharp  corners,  "duck" 
through  more  alleys  and  face  more  cold,  stiff  winds 
than  any  kind  of  worker  I  know.  He  must  think 
quickly,  yet  use  judgment;  he  must  act  quickly  and 
still  have  on  hand  a  rich  store  of  patience;  he  must 
work  hard,  and  often  long.  He  must  coax  one 
minute  and  "stand  pat"  the  next.  He  must  per- 
suade— persuade  the  man  he  approaches  that  he  needs 
his  goods  and  make  him  buy  them — yes,  make  him. 
He  is  messenger  boy,  train  dispatcher,  department 

15 


Tales  of  the  Road 

buyer,  credit  man,  actor,  lawyer  and  politician — all 
under  one  hat ! 

By  "salesman"  I  do  not  mean  the  man  who  stands 
behind  the  counter  and  lets  the  customer  who  comes 
to  him  and  wants  to  buy  a  necktie  slip  away  because 
the  spots  on  the  silk  are  blue  instead  of  green;  nor 
do  I  mean  the  man  who  wraps  up  a  collar,  size  1 6, 
and  calls  "cash;"  I  mean  the  man  who  takes  his  grip 
or  sample  trunks  and  goes  to  hunt  his  customer — the 
traveling  salesman.  Certainly  there  are  salesmen 
behind  the  counter,  and  he  has  much  in  common  with 
the  man  on  the  road. 

To  the  position  of  traveling  salesman  attach  inde- 
pendence, dignity,  opportunity,  substantial  reward. 
Many  of  the  tribe  do  not  appreciate  this;  those  do 
so  best  who  in  time  try  the  "professional  life."  When 
they  do  they  usually  go  back  to  the  road  happy  to 
get  there  again.  Yet  were  they  permanently  to  adopt 
a  profession — say  the  law — they  would  make  better 
lawyers  because  they  had  been  traveling  men.  Were 
many  professional  men  to  try  the  road,  they  would  go 
back  to  their  first  occupation  because  forced  to.  The 
traveling  man  can  tell  you  why!  I  bought,  a  few 
days  ago,  a  plaything  for  my  small  boy.  What  do 
you  suppose  it  was?  A  toy  train.  I  wish  him  to 
get  used  to  it — for  when  he  grows  up  I  am  going  to 
put  him  on  the  road  hustling  trunks. 

My  boy  will  have  a  better  chance  for  success  at  this 
than  at  anything  else.  If  he  has  the  right  sort  of  stuff 

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Tales  of  the  Road 

in  him  he  will  soon  lay  the  foundation  for  a  life  suc- 
cess; if  he  hasn't  I'll  soon  find  it  out.  As  a  traveling 
salesman  he  will  succeed  quickly  or  not  at  all.  In 
the  latter  event,  I'll  set  him  to  studying  a  profession. 
When  he  goes  on  the  road  he  may  save  a  great 
part  of  his  salary,  for  the  firm  he  will  represent 
will  pay  his  living  expenses  while  traveling  for 
them.  He  will  also  have  many  leisure  hours,  and 
even  months,  in  which  to  study  for  a  profession  if 
he  chooses;  or,  if  he  will,  he  may  spend  his  "out  of 
season"  months  in  foreign  travel  or  any  phase  of  in- 
tellectual culture — and  he  will  have  the  money  of 
his  own  earning  with  which  to  do  it.  Three  to  six  or 
eight  months  is  as  much  time  as  most  traveling  men 
can  profitably  give  to  selling  goods  on  the  road; 
the  rest  is  theirs  to  use  as  they  please. 

Every  man  who  goes  on  the  road  does  not  succeed 
— not  by  any  means.  The  road  is  no  place  for 
drones;  there  are  a  great  many  drops  of  the  honey 
of  commerce  waiting  in  the  apple  blossoms  along 
the  road,  but  it  takes  the  busy  "worker"  bee  to  get 
it.  The  capable  salesman  may  achieve  great  success, 
not  only  on  the  road,  but  in  any  kind  of  activity. 
"The  road"  is  a  great  training  school.  The  chair- 
man of  the  Transportation  Committee  in  the 
Chicago  city  council,  only  a  few  years  ago  was  a 
traveling  man.  He  studied  law  daily  and  went  into 
politics  while  he  yet  drew  the  largest  salary  of  any 
man  in  his  house.  Marshall  Field  was  once  a  trav- 


Tales  of  the  Road 

eling  man;  John  W.  Gates  sold  barbed  wire  before 
he  became  a  steel  king.  These  three  men  are  merely 
types  of  successful  traveling  men. 

Nineteen  years  ago,  a  boy  of  15,  I  quit  picking 
worms  off  of  tobacco  plants  and  began  to  work  in  a 
wholesale  house,  in  St.  Louis,  at  $5  per  week — and 
I  had  an  even  start  with  nearly  every  man  ever  con- 
nected with  the  firm.  The  president  of  the  firm 
today,  now  also  a  bank  president  and  worth  a  million 
dollars,  was  formerly  a  traveling  man;  the  old  vice- 
president  of  the  house,  who  is  now  the  head  of 
another  firm  in  the  same  line,  used  to  be  a  traveling 
man;  the  present  vice-president  and  the  president's 
son-in-law  was  a  traveling  man  when  I  went  with 
the  firm;  one  of  the  directors,  who  went  with  the 
house  since  I  did,  is  a  traveling  man.  Another  who 
traveled  for  this  firm  is  today  a  vice-president  of  a 
large  wholesale  dry  goods  house;  one  more  saved 
enough  to  go  recently  into  the  wholesale  business  for 
himself.  Out  of  the  lot  six  married  daughters  of 
wealthy  parents,  and  thirty  or  more,  who  keep  on 
traveling,  earn  by  six  months  or  less  of  road  work, 
from  $1200  to  $6000  each  year.  One  has  done, 
during  his  period  of  rest,  what  every  one  of  his 
fellow  salesmen  had  the  chance  to  do — take  a  degree 
from  a  great  university,  obtain  a  license  (which  he 
cannot  afford  to  use)  to  practice  law,  to  learn  to 
read,  write  and  speak  with  ease  two  foreign  Ian- 


Tales  of  the  Road 

guages  and  get  a  smattering  of  three  others,  and  to 
travel  over  a  large  part  of  the  world. 

Of  all  the  men  in  the  office  and  stock  departments 
of  this  firm  only  two  of  them  have  got  beyond  $25  a 
week;  and  both  of  them  have  been  drudges.  One 
has  moved  up  from  slave-bookkeeper  to  credit-man 
slave  and  partner.  The  other  has  become  a  buyer. 
And  even  he  as  well  as  being  a  stock  man  was  a  city 
salesman. 

Just  last  night  I  met,  on  leaving  the  street  car,  an 
old  school  boy  friend  who  told  me  that  he  was  soon 
going  to  try  his  hand  on  the  road  selling  bonds. 
He  asked  me  if  I  could  give  him  any  pointers.  I 
said:  "Work  and  be  square — never  come  down  on  a 
price;  make  the  price  right  in  the  beginning."  "Oh, 
I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  he.  I  slapped  him 
on  the  breast  and  answered:  "I  do!" 

I  would  give  every  traveling  man,  every  business 
man,  every  man  this  same  advice.  Say  what  you 
will,  a  square  deal  is  the  only  thing  to  give  your 
customer.  You  can  do  a  little  scaly  work  and  win 
out  at  it  for  a  while ;  but  when  you  get  in  the  stretch, 
unless  you  have  played  fair,  the  short  horses  will 
beat  you  under  the  wire. 

The  best  customer  on  my  order  book  came  to  me 
because  I  once  had  a  chance  to  do  a  little  crooked 
work,  but  didn't.  I  had  a  customer  who  had  been 
a  loyal  one  for  many  years.  He  would  not  even 
look  at  another  salesman's  goods — and  you  know 

19 


Tales  of  the  Road 

that  it  is  a  whole  lot  of  satisfaction  to  get  into  a 
town  and  walk  into  a  door  where  you  know  you  are 
"solid."  The  man  on  the  road  who  doesn't  appre- 
ciate and  care  for  a  faithful  customer  is  not  much 
of  a  man,  anyway. 

My  old  customer,  Logan,  had  a  little  trouble  with 
his  main  clerk.  The  clerk,  Fred,  got  it  into  his  head 
that  the  business  belonged  to  him,  and  he  tried  to 
run  it.  But  Logan  wouldn't  stand  for  this  sort  of 
work  and  "called  him  down."  The  clerk  became 
"toppy"  and  Logan  discharged  him. 

But,  still,  Fred  had  a  fairly  good  standing  in  the 
town  and  interested  an  old  bachelor,  a  banker,  who 
had  a  nephew  that  he  wanted  to  start  in  business. 
He  furnished  Fred  and  his  nephew  with  $10,000 
cash  capital;  the  three  formed  a  partnership  to  open 
a  new  store  and  "buck"  Logan.  Well,  you  know 
it  is  not  a  bad  thing  to  "stand  in"  with  the  head 
clerk  when  you  wish  to  do  business  in  an  establish- 
ment. So  I  had  always  treated  Fred  right  and  he 
liked  me  and  had  confidence  in  me.  In  fact,  it's  a 
poor  rule  to  fail  to  treat  all  well.  I  believe  that  the 
"boys"  on  the  road  are  the  most  tolerant,  patient 
human  beings  on  earth.  To  succeed  at  their  business 
they  must  be  patient  and  after  a  while  it  becomes  a 
habit — and  a  good  one,  too. 

You  know  how  it  goes!  A  merchant  gets  to 
handling  a  certain  brand  of  goods  which  is  no  better 
than  many  others  in  the  same  line.  He  gets  it  into 

20 


Tales  of  the  Road 

his  head  that  he  cannot  do  without  that  particular 
line.  This  is  what  enables  a  man  on  the  road  to  get 
an  established  trade.  The  clerks  in  the  store  also 
get  interested  in  some  special  brand  because  they 
have  customers  who  come  in  and  ask  for  that  par- 
ticular thing  a  few  times.  They  do  not  stop  to  think 
that  the  man  who  comes  in  and  asks  for  a  Leopard 
brand  hat  or  a  Knock-'em-out  shoe  does  not  have  any 
confidence  in  this  special  shoe  or  hat,  but  that  he  has 
confidence  in  the  establishment  where  he  buys  it. 

So,  when  I  was  in  Logan's  town  to  sell  him  his 
usual  bill,  his  clerk  hailed  me  from  across  the  street 
and  came  over  to  where  I  stood.  He  told  me  that 
he  had  quit  his  old  job  and  that  he  was  going  to  put 
in  a  new  stock.  I,  of  course,  had  to  tell  him  that  I 
must  stay  with  Logan,  but  that  out  of  appreciation 
of  his  past  kindness  to  me  I  would  do  the  best  I 
could  to  steer  him  right  in  my  line  of  goods.  I 
gave  him  a  personal  letter  to  another  firm  that  I  had 
been  with  before  and  who,  I  knew,  would  deal  with 
him  fairly. 

Fred  went  in  to  market.  When  in  the  city  he 
tried  to  buy  some  goods  of  my  firm.  He  intended 
to  take  these  same  goods  and  sell  them  for  a  lower 
price  than  Logan  had  been  getting,  and  thus  cut 
hard  into  Logan's  trade.  But  the  big  manufactur- 
ers, you  know,  are  awake  to  all  of  those  tricks  and  a 
first-class  establishment  will  always  protect  its  cus- 
tomers. My  house  told  Fred  that  before  they  could 

21 


Tales  of  the  Road 

sell  to  him  they  would  have  to  get  my  sanction. 
They  wired  me  about  it,  and  I,  of  course,  had  to  be 
square  with  my  faithful  old  friend,  Logan;  I  placed 
the  matter  before  him.  As  I  was  near  by,  I  wrote 
him,  by  special  delivery,  and  put  the  case  before 
him.  He,  for  self-protection,  wired  my  house  that 
he  would  prefer  that  they  would  not  sell  his  old 
clerk  who  was  now  going  to  become  his  competitor. 
In  fact,  he  said  he  would  not  stand  for  it. 

The  very  next  season  things  came  around  so  that 
Logan  went  out  of  business,  and  then  I  knew  that  I 
was  "up  against  it"  in  his  town — my  old  customer 
gone  out  of  business;  Fred  not  wanting,  then,  of 
course,  to  buy  of  me.  But  I  took  my  medicine  and 
consoled  myself  with  the  thought  that  a  few  grains 
of  gold  would  pan  out  in  the  wash. 

Up  in  a  large  town  above  Logan's  I  had  a  cus- 
tomer named  Dave,  who  had  moved  out  from  Colo- 
rado. He  was  well  fixed,  but  he  had  not  secured  the 
right  location.  Say  what  you  will,  location  has  a 
whole  lot  to  do  with  business.  Of  course,  a  poor 
man  would  not  prosper  in  the  busy  streets  of  Cairo, 
but  the  best  sort  of  a  hustler  would  starve  to  death 
doing  business  on  the  Sahara.  A  big  store  in  Dave's 
new  town  failed.  He  had  a  chance  to  buy  out  the 
stock  at  75  cents  on  the  dollar.  He  wished  to  do 
so;  but,  although  he  was  well-to-do,  he  didn't  have 
the  ready  cash. 

One  night  I  called  on  Dave  and  he  laid  the  case 

22 


Tales  of  the  Road 

before  me.  He  told  me  how  sorry  he  was  not  to  get 
hold  of  this  "snap."  I  put  my  wits  together  quickly 
and  I  said  to  him:  uDave,  I  believe  I  can  do  you 
some  good." 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  see  a  banker,  who 
was  a  brother-in-law  of  Logan's  and  who  had  made 
enough  money,  merchandising  and  out  of  wheat, 
down  in  Logan's  old  town,  to  move  up  to  the  city 
and  go  into  the  banking  business.  The  banker  knew 
all  about  the  way  that  I  had  treated  his  brother-in- 
law,  and  I  felt  that  because  I  had  been  square  with 
Logan  he  would  have  confidence  in  anything  I  would 
say  to  him.  I  laid  the  case  before  the  banker.  I 
told  him  I  knew  Dave  to  be  well  fixed,  to  have  good 
credit,  to  be  a  good  rustler  and  strictly  straight. 

In  a  little  while  I  brought  Dave  to  meet  the 
banker.  The  banker  immediately,  upon  my  recom- 
mendation, told  him  that  he  could  have  all  the 
money  he  needed — $16,000.  The  banker  also  wired 
to  the  people  who  owned  the  stock — he  was  well 
acquainted  with  them — and  told  them  he  would 
vouch  for  Dave. 

The  deal  went  through  all  right  and  Dave  now 
buys  every  cent's  worth,  that  he  uses  in  my  line,  from 
me.  He  is  the  best  customer  I  have;  I  got  him  by 
being  square. 

A  great  mistake  which  some  salesmen  make  when 
they  first  start  on  the  road  is  to  "load"  their  cus- 
tomers. The  experienced  man  will  not  do  this,  for 

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Tales  of  the  Road 

he  soon  learns  that  he  will  ulose  out"  by  it.  A 
merchant  will  not  long  continue  to  buy  from  a  travel- 
ing man  in  whom  he  has  no  confidence.  He,  in 
great  measure,  depends  on  the  judgment  of  the  trav- 
eling man  as  to  the  styles  and  quantities  he  should 
buy.  If  the  salesman  sells  him  too  much  of  anything 
it  is  only  a  matter  of  time  when  the  merchant  will 
buy  from  some  other  man.  When  a  storekeeper 
buys  goods  he  invests  money;  and  his  heart  is  not 
very  far  from  his  bank-book. 

The  time  when  the  traveling  man  will  ram  all  he 
can  into  an  order  is  when  the  merchant  splits  his 
business  in  the  salesman's  line,  buying  the  same  kind 
of  goods  from  two  or  more  houses.  Then  the  sales- 
man sells  as  much  as  he  can,  that  he  may  crowd  the 
other  man  out.  But  even  this  is  poor  policy. 

I  once  took  on  a  new  town.  My  predecessor  had 
been  getting  only  a  share  of  his  customer's  trade; 
two  others  had  divided  the  account  with  him.  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  have  all  of  the  account  or  none. 
The  merchant  went  to  my  sample  room  and  gave 
me  an  order  for  a  bill  of  hats.  He  bought  at  ran- 
dom. When  I  asked  him  what  sizes  he  wanted,  he 
said:  "Oh,  run  'em  regular."  "Very  well,"  said  I, 
"but  will  it  not  be  well  to  look  through  your  stock 
and  see  just  what  sizes  you  need?  Maybe  you  have 
quite  a  number  of  certain  sizes  on  hand  and  it  will 
be  needless  for  you  to  get  more  of  them.  Let's  go 
down  to  the  store  and  look  through  your  stock." 

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Tales  of  the  Road 

We  went  to  his  store.  The  first  item  on  the  order 
he  had  given  me  was  one  dozen  black  "Columbias." 
I  found  that  he  had  five  dozen  already  on  hand. 
uLook  here,"  said  I,  "don't  you  think  I  would  better 
scratch  that  item  off  of  the  bill?"  I  drew  my  pencil 
through  the  uone  dozen  Columbias." 

uNow  let  us  go  through  your  whole  stock  and  see 
if  there  are  not  other  items  you  have  duplicated,"  I 
suggested.  We  worked  together  for  four  hours — 
until  after  midnight.  It  was  the  biggest  mess  of  a 
stock  I  ever  saw.  When  we  got  through  I  had  cut 
down  my  order  three-fourths. 

"See,"  said  I,  showing  the  merchant  my  order- 
book  and  his  stock  list — which  every  merchant 
should  have  when  he  goes  to  buy  goods — "you  have 
enough  of  some  kinds  to  last  you  three  years. 
Others,  because  they  have  gone  out  of  style,  are 
worth  nothing.  All  you  can  get  out  of  them  will  be 
clear  profit;  throw  them  out  and  sell  them  for  any 
price. 

"Do  you  know  what  has  been  happening  to  you 
right  along?  Three  men — and  the  one  from  my 
firm  is  just  as  guilty  as  the  rest — have  been  loading 
you.  Why,  if  I  were  a  judge  and  they  were  brought 
before  me,  I'd  sentence  them  to  jail." 

"And  I  guess  I  ought  to  be  made  to  go  along 
with  them,"  broke  in  my  friend,  "for  participating 
in  the  crime." 

"That  I  will  leave  you  to  judge,"  said  I,   "but 

25 


Tales  of  the  Road 

there  is  one  thing  for  sure :  You  will  not  see  me  back 
here  again  for  a  year;  it  would  be  a  crime  for  any- 
one to  take  an  order  from  you  during  that  time. 
And  when  I  do  come  I  want  all  of  your  business, 
or  none;  you  haven't  enough  for  three,  or  even 
for  two.  You  can  buy  no  more  than  you  can  sell  to 
your  customers,  unless  you  go  broke  some  day. 
Your  interest  and  my  interest  are  the  same.  In 
truth,  I  stand  on  the  same  side  of  the  counter  as 
you  do.  It  is  to  my  interest  to  treat  you  right.  My 
firm  is  merely  the  one  from  which  you  and  I  together 
select  your  goods.  Ought  I  not  to  see  that  they  give 
you  the  right  things  at  the  right  prices?  If  I  treat 
you  right,  and  my  firm  does  not,  you  will  follow  me 
to  another;  if  I  treat  you  wrong  I'll  lose  both  your 
confidence  and  my  joB." 

That  man  today  gives  me  all  of  his  business;  I 
got  him  by  being  square. 

By  being  over-conscientious,  however,  a  salesman 
sometimes  will  not  let  his  customer  buy  enough. 
This  is  frequently  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
merchant.  To  sell  goods  a  merchant  must  have 
goods ;  to  have  them  he  must  buy  them.  The  stingy 
man  has  no  business  in  business.  Many  a  man  be- 
comes a  merchant  and,  because  he  is  either  too  close- 
fisted  or  hasn't  enough  capital  or  credit  with  which 
to  buy  goods,  is  awakened,  some  fine  morning,  by 
the  tapping  on  his  front  door  of  the  Sheriff's  ham- 
mer. A  man  may  think  that  if  he  goes  into  business 

26 


Tales  of  the  Road 

his  friends  will  buy  "any  old  thing,  just  be- 
cause it's  me";  but  he  will  find  out  that  when 
he  goes  to  separate  his  friends  from  their  coin  he 
must  give  them  the  kind  of  goods  they  want.  The 
successful  merchant  is  the  man  who  carries  the  stock. 

One  of  my  old  friends,  who  was  a  leading  hat 
salesman  of  St.  Louis,  once  told  me  the  following 
experience : 

"Several  years  ago  I  was  out  in  western  Texas  on 
a  team  trip.  It  was  a  flush  year;  cattle  were  high. 
I  had  been  having  a  good  time;  you  know  how  it 
goes — the  more  one  sells  the  more  he  wants  to  sell 
and  can  sell.  I  heard  of  a  big  cattleman  who  was 
also  running  a  cross-roads  grocery  store.  He  wanted 
to  put  in  dry  goods,  shoes  and  hats.  His  store  was 
only  a  few  miles  out  of  my  way  so  I  thought  that  I 
would  drive  over  and  see  him. 

"How  I  kicked  myself  when  I  drove  up  to  his 
shanty,  hardly  larger,  it  seemed  to  me,  than  my 
straw-goods  trunk!  But,  being  there,  I  thought  I 
would  pick  up  a  small  bill  anyway.  I  make  it  a  rule 
never  to  overlook  even  a  little  order,  for  enough  of 
them  amount  to  as  much  as  one  big  one.  When  I 
went  in  the  old  gentleman  was  tickled  to  see  me  and 
told  me  to  open  up — that  he  wanted  a  'right  smart' 
bill.  I  thought  that  meant  about  $75. 

"I  had  to  leave  my  trunks  outside — the  store 
was  so  small— so  I  brought  in  at  first  only  a  couple 
of  stacks  of  samples,  thinking  that  they  would  be 

27 


Tales  of  the  Road 

enough.  I  pulled  out  a  cheap  hat  and  handed  it 
to  him. 

"  'That's  a  good  one  for  the  money,'  said  I,  'a 
dollar  apiece.'  I  used  to  always  show  cheap  goods 
first,  but  I  have  learned  better. 

"He  looked  at  my  sample  in  contempt  and,  pull- 
ing a  fine  Stetson  hat  off  his  head,  said:  'Haven't 
you  got  some  hats  like  this  one?' 

"  'Yes,  but  they  will  cost  you  $84  a  dozen,'  I 
answered,  at  the  same  time  handing  him  a  fine 
beaver  quality  Stetson. 

"  'The  more  they  cost  the  better  they  suit  us  cat- 
tlemen ;  we  are  not  paupers,  suh !  How  many  come 
in  a  box?' 

41  'Two.1 

"  'Two?'  said  he.  'You  must  be  talking  about  a 
pasteboard  box;  I  mean  a  wooden  box,  a  case.' 

"  'Three  dozen  come  in  a  case,  Colonel.' 

"  'Well,  give  me  a  case.' 

"I  had  never  sold  a  case  of  these  fine  goods  in 
my  life,  so  I  said  to  him:  'That's  lots  more,  Colonel, 
than  I  usually  sell  of  that  kind,  and  I  don't  want  to 
overload  you;  hadn't  we  better  make  it  a  dozen?' 

"  'Dozen?  Lor',  no.  You  must  think  that  there's 
nobody  in  this  country,  that  they  haven't  any  money, 
and  that  I  haven't  any  money.  Did  you  see  that  big 
bunch  of  cattle  as  you  came  in?  They're  all  mine 
— mine,  suh;  and  I  don't  owe  the  bank  a  cent  on 
them,  suh.  No,  suh,  not  a  cent,  suh.  I  want  a  case 

28 


Tales  of  the  Road 

of  these  hats,  suh — not  a  little  bundle  that  you  can 
carry  under  yo'  arm.' 

"I  was  afraid  that  I  had  made  the  old  gentleman 
mad,  and,  knowing  him  by  reputation  to  be  worth 
several  thousand  dollars,  I  thought  it  best  to  let 
him  have  his  way.  I  went  through  the  two  stacks 
with  him  and  then  brought  in  the  rest  of  my  samples. 
He  bought  a  case  of  a  kind  right  through— fine 
hats,  medium  hats  and  cheap  hats  for  greasers;  he 
bought  blacks,  browns  and  light  colors.  I  was 
ashamed  to  figure  up  the  bill  before  his  face.  But 
just  as  soon  as  I  got  out  of  sight  I  added  up  the  items 
and  it  amounted  to  $2100 — the  best  bill  I  took  on 
that  trip. 

"I  sent  the  order  in,  but  I  thought  that  I  would 
not  have  to  call  there  again  for  a  long  time.  The 
house  shipped  the  bill,  and  the  old  gentleman  dis- 
counted it. 

uNext  trip  I  was  intending  to  give  that  point  the 
go-by.  I  really  felt  that  the  old  gentleman  not  only 
needed  no  more  goods,  but  that  he  would  shoot  me 
if  I  called  on  him.  But  when  I  reached  the  town  next 
to  his,  my  customer  there,  who  was  a  friend  of  the 
Colonel's,  told  me  that  the  old  gentleman  had  sent 
him  word  that  he  wished  to  buy  some  more  goods 
and  for  me  to  be  sure  to  come  to  see  him. 

"When  I  came  driving  up  to  the  Colonel's  store 
the  back  end  of  it  looked  peculiar  to  me.  He  had 
got  so  many  goods  from  me  that  he  had  been  obliged 

29 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  take  the  wooden  cases  they  were  shipped  in  and 
make  out  of  these  boxes  an  addition  to  his  store. 
Lumber  was  scarce  in  that  country.  The  Colonel 
came  out  and  shook  hands  with  me  before  I  was  out 
of  my  wagon.  I  was  never  greeted  more  warmly  in 
my  life. 

"  'Look  heah,'  he  began,  'I  owe  you  an  apology, 
suh;  and  I  want  to  make  it  to  you  befo'  you  pass 
my  threshol',  suh.  When  you  were  heah  befo'  I 
fear  that  I  allowed  my  indignation  to  arise.  I  am 
sorry  of  it,  suh,  sorry!  Give  me  yo'  hand  and  tell 
me  that  you  will  pahdon  me.  I  can't  look  you 
square  in  the  face  until  you  do.' 

"  Why,  Colonel,  that's  all  right,'  said  I,  <I  didn't 
want  to  abuse  your  confidence,  but  I  fear  that  I  my- 
self was  impertinent  in  trying  to  show  you  that  I 
knew  more  about  your  business  than  you  did.  I 
want  to  beg  your  pardon.' 

"  'No  pahdon  to  grant,  suh;  and  I  want  you  to 
accept  my  apology.  The  truth  is  the  cowboys  in 
this  country  have  been  deviling  me  to  death,  nearly 
- — ever  since  I  started  this  sto' — to  get  them  some 
good  hats — good  ones,  suh.  They  told  me  that 
they  couldn't  get  a  decent  hat  in  this  whole  country. 
I  promised  them  that  I  would  buy  some  of  the  best 
I  could  find.  When  yo's  came  some  of  the  boys 
saw  the  wagon  bound  for  my  store,  ten  miles  out  of 
town.  They  fo'med  a  sort  of  a  procession,  suh,  and 
marched  in  with  the  team.  Every  one  of  these  boys 

30 


Tales  of  the  Road 

bought  one  of  those  finest  hats  you  sold  me.  They 
spread  the  news  that  I  had  a  big  stock  and  a  fine 
stock,  all  over  this  country;  and,  do  you  know,  peo- 
ple have  come  two  hundred  miles  to  buy  hats  of  me? 
Some  of  my  friends  laughed  at  me,  they  say,  be- 
cause I  bought  so  many  that  I  had  to  use  the  cases 
they  came  in  to  make  an  addition  to  my  sto'.  But 
the  more  they  laughed,  suh,  the  more  necessary  they 
made  the  addition.  If  you  can  only  get  people  to 
talking  about  you,  you  will  thrive.  Believe  me  in 
this,  suh:  If  they  say  something  good  about  you, 
that  is  good;  if  they  say  something  bad  about  you, 
that  is  better — it  spreads  faster.  Those  fool  mer- 
chants did  not  know,  suh,  that  they  were  helping 
my  business  every  time  that  they  told  about  how 
many  hats  I  had  bought,  until  one  day  a  fellow, 
when  they  were  laughing  about  me,  said:  "Well,  if 
that's  the  case  I'll  buy  my  hat  from  him;  I  like, 
anyway,  to  patronize  the  man  who  carries  a  good 
stock."  Now  you  just  come  back  and  see  how  empty 
my  addition  is.' 

"I  went  back  into  my  addition  and  found  that  the 
Colonel's  hats  were  nearly  all  gone.  He  had 
actually  sold — and  out  of  his  little  shanty — more  of 
my  goods  than  any  other  customer  I  had.  When  I 
started  to  have  my  trunks  unloaded  the  Colonel  said 
to  me:  'Now  just  hoi'  on  there;  that's  entirely  un- 
necessary. The  last  ones  sold  so  well,  you  just 
duplicate  my  last  bill,  except  that  you  leave  out  the 


Tales  of  the  Road 

poah  hats.  Come,  let's  go  up  to  my  house  and  have 
a  julep  and  rest  a  while/  ' 

Although  a  man's  friends  will  not  buy  from  him 
if  he  does  not  carry  the  goods,  he  will  yet  get  their 
patronage  over  the  other  fellow  if  he  has  the  right 
stock.  Here's  where  a  man's  personality  and  adap- 
tability are  his  stock  in  trade  when  he  is  on  the  road ; 
and  the  good  salesman  gets  the  business  over  his 
competitor's  head  just  by  being  able  to  turn  the 
mood  of  the  merchant  he  meets.  The  more  moods 
he  can  turn,  the  larger  his  salary. 

One  of  my  musician  road  friends  once  told  me 
how  he  sold  a  bill  to  a  well-known  old  crank,  now 
dead,  in  the  state  of  Montana. 

"When  I  used  to  work  at  the  bench,  years  ago," 
said  he,  as  we  sat  in  the  smoker,  "evenings  when  I 
was  free,  for  relaxation,  I  studied  music.  Our  shop 
boys  organized  a  brass  band.  I  played  the  trom- 
bone, and  learned  to  do  so  fairly  well.  I  never 
thought  then  that  my  music  would  fatten  my  pocket- 
book;  but  since  I  have  been  on  the  road  it  has  served 
me  a  good  turn  more  than  once — it  has  sold  me 
many  a  bill. 

"You've  head  of  the  Wild  Irishman  of  Chinook,' 
haven't  you?" 

"Old  Larry,  the  crank?"  said  I. 

"Yes,  old  Larry,  the  great." 

"Well,  sir,  the  first  evening  I  ever  went  into 
Larry's  store,  I  hadn't  been  in  a  minute  until  he  said 

32 


O 

Q 

Q 


ft 

§ 

Q 
ft 

a 

5 

55 


s 


or 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  me:  'Oi'm  all  full  up;  OiVe  got  plinty  of  it,  I 
doon't  give  a  dom  pwhat  ye're  silling.' 

"I  paid  no  attention  ta  him,  as  I  had  heard  of 
him;  instead  of  going  out  I  bought  a  cigar  and  sat 
down  by  the  stove.  Although  a  man  may  not  wish 
to  bury  anything  from  you,  you  know,  he  is  always 
willing  to  sell  you  something,  even  if  it  is  only  a 
cigar.  I've  caught  many  a  merchant's  ear  by  buying 
something  of  him.  My  specialty  is  bone  collar 
buttons — they  come  cheap.  I'll  bet  that  I  bought  a 
peck  of  them  the  first  time  I  made  a  trip  through 
this  country. 

"I  had  not  been  sitting  by  the  stove  long  until  I 
noticed,  in  a  show  case,  a  trombone.  I  asked  Larry 
to  please  let  me  see  it.  'Oi'll  lit  ye  say  the  insthru- 
mint,'  said  he,  'but  pwhat's  the  good  of  it?  Ye  can't 
play  the  thromboon,  can  ye  ?  Oi'm  the  only  mon  in 
this  berg  that  can  bloo  that  hairn.  Oi'm  a  mimber 
of  the  bhrass  band.' 

"I  took  the  horn  and,  as  I  ran  the  scale  a  few  times, 
Larry's  eyes  began  to  dance.  He  wouldn't  wait  on 
the  customer  who  came  in.  The  instrument  was  a 
good  one.  I  made  Tratties  and  fishes  are  very  foine 
dishes  for  Saint  Pathrick  in  the  mairnin'  '  fairly  ring. 
A  big  crowd  came  in.  Larry  let  business  drop  en- 
tirely and  danced  a  jig.  He  kept  me  playing  for  an 
hour,  always  something  'by  special  rayquist' — 'Molly 
Dairlint,'  'Moggie  Moorphy's  Hoom'  and  every- 

33 


Tales  of  the  Road 

thing  he  could  think  of.  Finally  he  asked  me  for 
'Hairts  Booed  Doon.' 

uAs  I  played  The  Heart  Bowed  Down,'  tears 
came  to  the  old  Irishman's  eyes.  When  I  saw  these, 
I  played  yet  better;  this  piece  was  one  of  my  own 
favorites.  I  felt  a  little  peculiar  myself.  This  air 
had  made  a  bond  between  us.  When  I  finished,  the 
old  man  said  to  me :  'Thank  ye,  thank  ye,  sor,  with 
all  my  hairt!  That's  enoof.  Let  me  put  the  hairn 
away.  Go  hoom  now.  But  coom  aroond  in  the 
mairnin'  and  Oi'll  boy  a  bill  of  ye ;  Oi  doon't  give  a 
dom  pwhat  ye're  silling.  If  Oi've  got  your  loine  in 
my  sthore  Oi'll  boy  a  bill;  if  I  haven't,  Oi'll  boy  a 
bill  innyway  and  stairt  a  new  depairtmint.  Good 
noight,  give  me  yer  hand,  sor.' 

"Not  only  did  Larry  give  me  a  good  order,  but 
he  went  to  two  more  merchants  in  the  town  and  made 
them  buy  from  me.  He  bought  every  dollar's  worth 
of  his  goods  in  my  line  from  me  as  long  as  he  lived." 


34 


M 


CHAPTER   II. 

CLERKS,   CRANKS  AND  TOUCHES. 

ANY  a  bill  of  goods  is  sold  on  the  road 
through  the  influence  of  the  clerk.  The 
traveling  man  who  overlooks  this  point 
overlooks  a  strong  one.  The  clerk  is  the  one  who 
gets  next  to  the  goods.  He  checks  them  off  when 
they  come  in,  keeps  the  dust  off  of  them  every  day, 
sells  them  to  the  people  and  often  he  does  the  select- 
ing of  the  goods  in  the  first  place.  A  merchant  usu- 
ally buys  what  pleases  the  clerks  in  order  to  get  them 
interested.  In  this  way  he  puts  a  sort  of  responsibil- 
ity upon  them.  If  the  business  man  neglects  his 
clerks,  they  neglect  his  business;  if  the  traveling  man 
ignores  the  clerks,  they  ignore  the  traveling  man. 

But  in  this  matter  the  salesman  must  go  just  so 
far  and  no  farther,  for  the  moment  that  the  merchant 
begins  to  think  the  traveling  man  is  influencing  the 
clerks  unduly,  down  comes  the  hatchet !  A  hat  man 
once,  as  we  rode  together  on  the  train,  told  me  this 
incident : 

"I  once  sold  a  small  bill  of  hats  to  a  large  mer- 
chant down  in  California,"  said  he.  "The  next  sea- 
son when  I  came  around  I  saw  that  my  goods  were 

35 


Tales  of  the  Road 

on  the  floor-shelf.  I  didn't  like  this.  If  you  want 
to  get  your  goods  sold,  get  them  where  they  are 
easy  to  reach.  Clerks,  and  merchants  too,  usually 
follow  the  line  of  least  resistance;  they  sell  that  which 
they  come  to  first.  If  a  man  asks  me  where  he  ought 
to  put  his  case  for  hats  to  make  them  move,  I  tell 
him,  'up  front.' 

"From  the  base  shelf  I  dug  up  a  box  of  my  goods, 
knocked  the  dust  off  the  lid,  took  out  a  hat,  began 
to  crease  it.  One  of  the  clerks  came  up.  He  was 
very  friendly.  They  usually  are.  They  like  to  brush 
up  against  the  traveling  man,  for  it  is  the  ambition 
of  nineteen  clerks  out  of  every  twenty  to  get  on  the 
road. 

"My  young  friend,  seeing  the  hat  in  my  hand, 
said,  'Gee,  that's  a  beaut.  I  didn't  know  we  had  a 
swell  thing  like  that  in  the  house.  I  wish  I'd  got 
one  like  that  instead  of  this  old  bonnet.' 

"With  this  he  showed  me  a  new  stiff  hat.  I 
scarcely  glanced  at  it  before  I  cracked  the  crown 
out  of  it  over  my  heel,  handed  him  the  hat  I  had 
taken,  out  of  the  box,  threw  three  dollars  on  the 
counter  and  said,  'Well,  we'll  swap.  Take  this  one.' 
'  'Guess  I  will,  all  right,  all  right !'  he  exclaimed. 

"Another  one  of  the  boys  who  saw  this  incident 
came  up  with  his  old  hat  and  asked,  laughing, 
*Maybe  you  want  to  swap  with  me?' 

"Crack  went  another  hat;  down  I  threw  another 
three  dollars.  Before  I  got  through,  eight  clerks 

36 


Tales  of  the  Road 

had  new  hats,  and  I  had  thrown  away  twenty-four 
dollars. 

"Thrown  away?  No,  sir.  I'll  give  that  much, 
every  day  of  the  week,  to  get  the  attention  of  a 
large  dealer.  Twenty-four  dollars  are  made  in  a 
minute  and  a  half  by  a  traveling  man  when  he  gets 
to  doing  business  with  a  first-class  merchant. 

"The  proprietor,  Hobson,  was  not  then  in.  When 
I  dropped  in  that  afternoon,  I  asked  him  if  he  would 
see  my  samples. 

u  'No,  sir,  I  will  not,'  he  spoke  up  quickly.  'To 
be  plain  with  you,  I  do  not  like  the  way  in  which  you 
are  trying  to  influence  my  clerks.' 

"There  was  the  critical — the  'psychological' — 
moment.  Weakness  would  have  put  an  end  to  me. 
But  this  was  the  moment  I  wanted.  In  fact,  I  have 
at  times  deliberately  made  men  mad  just  to  get  their 
attention. 

"  'Hobson,'  I  flashed  back,  'You  can  do  just  as 
you  please  about  looking  at  my  goods.  But  I'll  tell 
you  one  thing :  I  have  no  apology  to  offer  in  regard 
to  your  clerks.  You  bought  my  goods  and  buried 
them.  I  know  they  are  good,  and  I  want  you  to 
find  it  out.  I  have  put  them  on  the  heads  of  your 
men  because  I  am  not  ashamed  to  have  them  wear 
them  before  your  face.  You  can  now  see  how  styl- 
ish they  are.  In  six  months  you  will  learn  how  well 
they  \vear.  I  would  feel  like  a  sneak  had  I  stealthily 
slipped  a  twenty  dollar  gold  piece  into  the  hand  of 

37 


Tales  of  the  Road 

your  hat  man  and  told  him  to  push  my  goods.  But 
I  haven't  done  this.  In  fact  I  gave  a  hat  to  nearly 
every  clerk  you  have  except  your  hat  man.  He  was 
away.  Even  your  delivery  boy  has  one.  You  owe 
me  an  apology,  sir;  and  I  demand  it,  and  demand 
it  right  now  1  I've  always  treated  you  as  a  gentle- 
man, sir;  and  you  shall  treat  me  as  such.'  Then, 
softening  down,  I  continued:  'I  can  readily  see  how, 
at  first  glance,  you  were  offended  at  me;  but  just 
think  a  minute,  and  I  believe  you'll  tell  me  you  were 
hasty.' 

"  'Yes,  I  was,'  he  answered  quietly.  'Got  your  stuff 
open?  I'll  go  right  down  with  you.'  After  Hobson 
had,  in  a  few  minutes,  given  me  a  nice  order,  he 
said  to  me :  'Well,  do  you  know,  I  like  your  pluck.' 

"It  sometimes  happens  that  a  traveling  man  meets 
with  a  surly  clerk,  a  conceited  clerk,  or  a  bribed  clerk 
who  has  become  buyer,"  continued  my  friend.  uThen 
the  thing  to  do  is  to  go  straight  to  the  head  of  the 
establishment.  The  man  I  like  to  do  business  with 
is  the  man  whose  money  pays  for  my  goods.  He  is 
not  pulled  out  of  line  by  guy  ropes.  It  is  well  to 
stand  in  with  the  clerks,  but  it  is  better  to  be  on  the 
right  side  of  the  boss.  When  it  gets  down  to  driving 
nails,  he  is  the  one  to  hammer  on  the  hardest. 

"I  once  took  on  the  territory  of  a  man  who  had 
quit  the  road.  About  this  same  time  one  of  his  best 
customers  had,  to  some  extent,  retired  from  business 
activity  and  put  on  a  new  buyer  in  my  department. 

38 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Now,  this  is  a  risky  thing,  you  know,  for  a  merchant 
to  do  unless  the  buyer  gets  an  interest  in  the  business 
and  becomes,  in  truth,  a  merchant  himself.  It  usu- 
ally means  the  promotion  of  a  clerk  who  gets  a 
swelled  head.  The  new  buyer  generally  feels  that 
he  must  do  something  to  show  his  ability  and  one 
of  the  ways  he  does  this  is  by  switching  lines. 

"During  the  illness  of  my  predecessor,  who  soon 
after  quit  the  road,  another  man  made  for  him  a 
part  of  his  old  trip.  In  one  of  the  towns  he  made 
he  struck  the  new  buyer  and,  of  course,  got  turned 
down.  Had  I  been  there,  I  would  have  received  the 
same  sort  of  treatment. 

uMy  immediate  predecessor,  who  was  turned 
down,  posted  me;  so  when  I  went  to  the  town,  I 
knew  just  what  to  do — go  direct  to  the  proprietor. 
I  knew  that  my  goods  were  right;  all  I  needed  was 
unprejudiced  attention.  Prejudice  anyway  buys  most 
of  the  goods  sold;  merit  is  a  minor  partner.  Were 
merchandise  sold  strictly  on  merit,  two-thirds  of  the 
wholesale  houses  and  factories  would  soon  lock  up; 
and  the  other  third  would  triple  their  business. 

"When  I  entered  the  store,  I  went  straight  to  the 
proprietor  and  told  him  without  introducing  myself 
(a  merchant  does  not  care  what  your  name  is)  what 
my  line  of  business  was.  It  was  Saturday  afternoon. 
I  would  rather  go  out  making  business  on  Satur- 
day than  any  other  day  because  the  merchant  is  doing 
business  and  is  in  a  good  humor,  and  you  can  get 

39 


Tales  of  the  Road 

right  at  the  point.  Of  course,  you  must  catch  him 
when  he  is  not,  for  the  moment,  busy. 

"  'Can't  do  anything  for  you,  sir,  I  fear,'  said  he. 
'Hereafter  we  are  going  to  buy  that  line  direct  from 
the  factories.' 

"I  saw  that  the  proprietor  himself  was  prejudiced, 
and  that  the  one  thing  to  do  was  to  come  straight 
back  at  him.  'Where  do  you  suppose  my  hats  come 
from?'  said  I.  'My  factory  is  the  leading  one  in 
New  Jersey.'  I  was  from  Chicago  although  my 
goods,  in  truth,  were  made  in  Orange  Valley. 

"  'Will  you  be  here  Monday?'  he  asked.  This 
meant  that  he  wanted  to  look  at  my  samples.  The 
iron  was  hot;  then  was  the  time  to  strike. 

"  'Sorry,  but  I  cannot,'  I  answered.  'But  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  My  line  is  a  specialty  line — only 
fine  goods — and  I'll  bring  in  a  small  bunch  of  sam- 
ples tonight  about  the  time  you  close  up.'  Mer- 
chants like  to  deal  with  a  man  who  is  strictly  busi- 
ness when  they  both  get  to  doing  business.  Then  is 
the  time  to  put  friendship  and  joking  on  the  shelf. 

"That  night  at  ten  o'clock  I  was  back  at  the  store 
with  a  bundle  under  my  arm.  The  man  who  is  too 
proud  to  carry  a  bundle  once  in  a  while  would  better 
never  start  on  the  road.  The  proprietor  whispered 
to  the  hat  buyer — I  overheard  the  words — 'Large 
Eastern  factory' — and  together  they  began  to  look 
at  my  samples.  The  new  buyer  went  to  the  shelves 
and  got  out  some  of  the  goods  which  had  come  from 

40 


Tales  of  the  Road 

my  house  to  compare  with  my  samples, — which  were 
just  the  same  quality.  But,  after  fingering  both,  he 
said  right  out  to  the  proprietor:  There's  no  com- 
parison. I've  told  you  all  along  that  the  factory  was 
the  place  to  buy.' 

UI  booked  my  order — it  was  a  fat  one,  too — solid 
case  lots. 

"  'Shall  I  ship  these  from  Orange  Valley  or  Chi- 
cago?' I  asked. 

"  'Why  do  you  ask  that?'  asked  the  proprietor. 

"  'Because  you  have  bought  a  bill  from  a  firm  you 
have  dealt  with  for  twenty  years,  Blank  and  Com- 
pany of  Chicago,  that  I  represent,  and  I  do  not  want 
one  who  has  favored  me  to  pay  any  extra  freight. 
You  will  pardon  me,  I'm  sure,  for  not  telling  you 
the  whole  truth  until  now ;  but  this  was  the  only  way 
in  which  I  could  overcome  your  prejudice.'  ' 

"That's  one  on  me,"  said  the  merchant.  "Come 
— boys,  you  are  in  on  this  too — I'll  buy  the  smokes." 

Many  traveling  men  make  mistakes  by  steering 
shy  of  cranks.  The  so-called  crank  is  the  easiest 
man  to  approach,  if  only  you  go  at  him  right. 

Once  I  sat  at  dinner  with  two  other  traveling  men 
who  were  strangers  to  me — as  strange  as  one  travel- 
ing man  ever  is  to  another.  This  is  not,  however, 
very  "strange,"  for  the  cosmopolitan  life  of  the  road 
breeds  a  good  fellowship  and  a  sort  of  secret  society 
fraternity  among  all  knights  of  the  grip.  My  ter- 
ritory being  new,  I  made  inquiry  regarding  the  mer- 

41 


Tales  of  the  Road 

chants  of  a  certain  town  to  which  I  intended  to  go. 

" Don't  go  there/'  spoke  up  one  of  my  table  com- 
panions. "There's  no  one  there  who's  any  good 
except  old  man  Duke  and  he's  the  biggest  crank 
on  earth.  He  discounts  his  bills, — but  Lord,  it's 
a  job  to  get  near  him." 

Some  men  on  the  road  are  vulgar;  but  will  not  this 
comment  apply  to  some  few  of  any  class  of  men? 

"My  friend,"  said  companion  number  two,  look- 
ing straight  at  the  man  who  had  just  made  the  above 
remarks,  "I've  been  on  the  road  these  many  years 
and,  if  my  observation  counts  for  anything,  those  we 
meet  are,  to  a  great  extent,  but  reflections  of  our- 
selves. True,  many  call  Mr.  Duke  peculiar,  but  I 
have  always  got  along  with  him  without  any  trouble. 
I  consider  him  a  gentleman." 

I  went  to  the  "old  crank's"  town.  As  I  rode  on 
the  train,  louder  than  the  clacking  of  the  car  wheels, 
I  heard  myself  saying  over  and  over  again:  "Those 
we  meet  are,  to  a  great  extent,  but  reflections  of  our- 
selves." 

When  I  went  into  the  old  gentleman's  store,  he 
was  up  front  in  his  office  at  work  on  his  books.  I 
merely  said,  "Good  morning,  sir,"  and  went  back 
and  sat  down  by  the  stove.  It's  never  a  good  thing 
to  interrupt  a  merchant  when  he's  busy.  He,  and  he 
alone,  knows  what  is  most  important  for  him  to  do. 
Maybe  he  has  an  urgent  bill  or  sight  draft  to  meet; 
maybe  he  has  a  rush  order  to  get  off  in  the  next  mail ; 

42 


Tales  of  the  Road 

maybe  he  is  figuring  up  his  profit  or  his  loss  on  some 
transaction.  Then  is  not  the  time  to  state  your  busi- 
ness if  you  wish  to  make  your  point.  The  traveling 
man  must  not  forget  that  the  merchant's  store  is  a 
place  of  business;  that  he  is  on  the  lookout  for  good 
things  and  just  as  anxious  to  buy  good  goods  ad- 
vantageously as  the  salesman  is  to  sell  them;  and 
that  he  will  generally  lend  an  ear,  for  a  moment  at 
least, — if  properly  approached — to  any  business  prop- 
osition. 

After  a  while,  the  old  gentleman  came  back  to 
the  stove  and,  as  he  approached,  politely  said  to  me, 
"Is  there  something  I  can  do  for  you,  suh?" 

I  caught  his  southern  accent  and  in  a  moment  was 
on  my  guard.  I  arose  and,  taking  off  my  hat — for 
he  was  an  old  gentleman — replied:  "That  remains 
with  you,  sir,"  and  I  briefly  stated  my  business,  say- 
ing finally,  "As  this  is  my  first  time  in  your  town 
and  as  my  house  is  perhaps  new  to  you,  possibly,  if 
you  can  find  the  time  to  do  so,  you  may  wish  to  see 
what  I  have."  Recalling  that  one  of  my  table  com- 
panions had  said  he  considered  him  a  gentleman  I 
was  especially  careful  to  be  polite  to  the  merchant. 
And  politeness  is  a  jewel  that  every  traveling  man 
should  wear  in  his  cravat. 

"I  shall  see  you  at  one  thirty,  suh.  Will  you  ex- 
cuse me  now?"  With  this  the  old  gentleman  re- 
turned to  his  office.  I  immediately  left  the  store. 
The  important  thing  to  get  a  merchant  to  do  is  to 

43 


Tales  of  the  Road 

consent  to  look  at  your  goods.  When  you  can  get 
him  to  do  this,  keep  out  of  his  way  until  he  is  ready 
to  fulfil  his  engagement.  Then,  when  you  have 
done  your  business,  pack  your  goods  and  leave  town. 
What  the  merchant  wants  chiefly  with  the  traveling 
man  is  to  do  business  with  him.  True,  much  visit- 
ing and  many  odd  turns  are  sometimes  necessary  to 
get  the  merchant  to  the  point  of  "looking,"  but 
when  you  get  him  there,  leave  him  until  he  is  ready 
to  "look."  Friendships,  for  sure,  will  develop,  but 
don't  force  them. 

At  one  twenty-nine  that  afternoon  I  started  for  the 
"old  crank's"  store.  It  was  just  across  the  street 
from  my  sample  room.  I  met  him  in  the  middle  of 
the  street.  He  was  a  crank  about  keeping  his  en- 
gagements promptly.  I  respect  a  man  who  does  this. 
The  old  gentleman  looked  carefully,  but  not  tedi- 
ously, at  my  goods,  never  questioning  a  price.  In  a 
little  while,  he  said:  "I  shall  do  some  business  with 
you,  suh;  your  goods  suit  me." 

I  never  sold  an  easier  bill  in  my  life  and  never 
met  a  more  pleasant  gentleman.  Our  business  fin- 
ished, he  offered  me  a  cigar  and  asked  that  he  might 
sit  and  smoke  while  I  packed  my  samples.  Yes,  of- 
fered me  a  cigar.  And  I  took  it.  It  was  lots  bet- 
ter than  offering  him  one.  He  enjoyed  giving  me 
one  more  than  he  would  have  enjoyed  smoking  one 
of  mine.  In  fact,  it  flatters  any  man  more  to  accept 
a  favor  from  him  than  to  do  one  for  him.  Many 

44 


Tales  of  the  Road 

traveling  men  spend  two  dollars  a  day  on  cigars 
which  they  give  away.  They  are  not  only  throwing 
away  money  but  also  customers  sometimes.  The 
way  for  the  salesman  on  the  road  to  handle  the  man 
he  wants  to  sell  goods  to  in  order  to  get  his  regard 
is  to  treat  him  as  he  does  the  man  of  whom  he  expects 
no  favors.  When  you  give  a  thing  to  a  man  he  gen- 
erally asks  in  his  own  mind,  "What  for?" 

Before  I  left  the  town  of  the  "old  crank"  I  met 
with  another  of  his  peculiarities.  I  was  out  of  money. 
I  asked  him  if  he  would  cash  a  sight  draft  for  me 
on  my  firm  for  a  hundred  dollars. 

"No,  suh,"  said  he.  "I  will  not.  I  was  once 
swindled  that  way  and  I  now  make  it  a  rule  never 
to  do  that." 

Needles  stuck  in  me  all  over. 

"But,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  "I  shall 
gladly  lend  you  a  hundred  dollars  or  any  amount  you 
wish." 

For  the  many  years  I  went  to  the  town  of  the  "old 
crank,"  our  relationship  was  most  cordial.  I  believe 
we  became  friends.  More  than  once  did  he  drop 
business  and  go  out  fishing  with  me.  Since  the  first 
day  we  met  I  have  often  recalled  the  words  of  my 
table  companion:  "Those  we  meet  are,  to  a  great 
extent,  but  reflections  of  ourselves." 

Recalling  the  predicament  I  was  in  for  a  moment 
in  the  town  of  the  "old  crank,"  reminds  me  of  an 
experience  I  once  had.  As  a  rule,  I  haven't  much 

45 


Tales  of  the  Road 

use  for  the  man  on  the  road  who  borrows  money.  If 
he  hasn't  a  good  enough  stand-in  with  his  firm  to 
draw  on  the  house  or  else  to  have  the  firm  keep  him 
a  hundred  or  two  ahead  in  checks,  put  him  down  as 
no  good.  The  man  who  is  habitually  broke  on  the 
road  is  generally  the  man  who  thinks  he  has  the  "gen- 
tle finger/'  and  that  he  can  play  in  better  luck  than 
the  fellow  who  rolls  the  little  ivory  ball  around  a 
roulette  wheel.  There  are  not  many  of  this  kind, 
though;  they  don't  last  long.  It's  mostly  the  new 
man  or  the  son  of  the  boss  who  thinks  he  can  pay 
room  rent  for  tin  horns. 

Even  the  best  of  us,  though,  get  shy  at  least  once 
in  a  life  time,  and  have  to  call  on  some  one  for  chips. 
I've  done  this  a  few  times  myself.  I  never  refused 
one  of  the  boys  on  the  road  a  favor  in  all  my  life. 
Many  a  time  I've  dug  up  a  bill  and  helped  out  some 
chap  who  was  broke  and  I  knew,  at  the  time,  that 
as  far  as  getting  back  the  money  went,  I  might  just 
as  well  chuck  it  in  the  sewer.  Few  of  the  boys  will 
borrow,  but  all  of  them  are  ever  ready  to  lend. 

The  one  time  I  borrowed  was  in  Spokane.  When 
I  went  down  to  the  depot  I  learned  that  I  could  buy 
a  baggage  prepaid  permit  and  save  about  fifty  dollars. 
I  did  not  know  until  I  reached  the  station  that  I 
could  do  this  in  Spokane.  Down  east  they  haven't 
got  on  well  to  this  system.  You  can  prepay  your 
excess  baggage  all  the  way  from  a  coast  point  clear 
back  to  Chicago  and  have  the  right  to  drop  your 

46 


Tales  of  the  Road 

trunks  off  anywhere  you  will  along  the  route.  This 
makes  a  great  saving.  Well,  when  I  went  to  check 
in  I  saw  that  I  was  short  about  four  dollars.  I  did 
not  have  time  to  run  back  to  my  customer's  up  town 
or  to  the  hotel  and  cash  a  draft.  I  looked  to  see  if 
there  was  somebody  around  that  I  knew.  Not  a  fa- 
miliar face.  I  had  to  do  one  of  three  things:  Lose 
a  day,  give  up  by  slow  degrees  over  fifty  dollars 
to  the  Railroad  Company,  or  strike  somebody  for 
four. 

Right  here  next  to  me  at  the  baggage  counter  stood 
a  tall,  good  natured  fellow — I  shall  always  remem- 
ber his  sandy  whiskers  and  pair  of  generous  blue 
eyes.  He  was  checking  his  baggage  to  Walla  Walla. 

"Going  right  through  to  Walla  Walla  ?"  said  I. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "can  I  do  anything  for  you?" 

"Well,  since  you  have  mentioned  it,  you  can,"  I 
answered. 

I  introduced  myself,  told  my  new  friend — Mason 
was  his  name,  Billie  Mason — how  I  was  fixed  and 
that  I  would  give  him  a  note  to  my  customer,  Mc- 
Pherson,  at  Walla  Walla,  requesting  him  to  pay  back 
the  money. 

I  gave  Mason  the  order,  written  with  a  lead  pencil 
on  the  back  of  an  envelope,  and  he  gave  me  the 
four  dollars. 

I  got  down  to  Walla  Walla  in  a  few  days.  When 
I  went  in  to  see  McPherson  the  first  thing  I  said  to 

47 


Tales  of  the  Road 

him,  handing  him  four  dollars,  was:  "Mac,  I  want 
to  pay  you  back  that  four." 

"What  four?"  said  McPherson. 

"What  four?"  said  I.  "Your  memory  must  be 
short.  Why,  that  four  I  gave  a  traveling  man, 
named  Mason,  an  order  on  you  for!" 

McPherson  looked  blank;  but  we  happened  to  be 
standing  near  the  cashier's  desk,  and  the  matter  was 
soon  cleared  up. 

The  cashier,  who  was  a  new  man  in  the  store, 
spoke  up  and  said:  "Yes,  last  week  a  fellow  was  in 
here  with  an  order  on  you  for  four  dollars,  but 
it  was  written  with  a  lead  pencil  on  the  back  of  an 
envelope.  I  thought  it  was  no  good.  I  didn't  want 
to  be  out  the  four,  so  I  refused  to  pay  it." 

"The  deuce  you  did,"  said  my  friend  Mac,  "Why, 
I've  known  this  man  (referring  to  me)  and  bought 
goods  of  him  for  ten  years." 

The  thing  happened  this  way:  On  the  very  day 
that  Mason  presented  my  order  both  McPherson 
himself  and  the  clerk  in  my  department  were  out  of 
town.  When  the  new  cashier  told  Mason  that  he 
did  not  know  me,  Mason  simply  thought  he  was 
"done"  for  four,  and  walked  out  thanking  himself 
that  the  amount  was  not  more. 

But  it  so  happened  that  Mason  himself  that  night 
told  this  joke  on  himself  to  a  friend  of  mine. 

My  friend  laughed  "fit  to  kill"  and  finally  said 
to  Mason:  "Why  that  fellow's  good  for  four  hun- 

48 


Tales  of  the  Road 

dred;"  and  he  gave  Mason  what  I  had  failed  to  give 
him — my  address. 

I  had  also  failed  to  take  Mason's  address.  After 
he  made  me  the  loan  in  Spokane  we  sat  on  the  train 
together  chatting.  I  became  well  acquainted  with 
him,  and  with  a  friend  of  his  named  Dickey,  who 
was  along  with  us.  Yet  I  did  not  ask  Mason  his 
business,  even;  for,  as  you  know,  it's  only  the  fresh, 
new  man  who  wants  to  know  what  every  man  he 
meets  is  selling. 

After  McPherson's  new  cashier  had  told  me  that 
he  had  not  paid  my  order,  I  inquired  of  every  man 
I  met  about  Mason,  but  could  get  no  clew  on  him. 
He  was  in  a  specialty  jewelry  business  and  made 
only  a  few  large  towns  in  my  territory.  Every  time 
I  boarded  a  train  I  would  look  all  through  it  for 
those  sandy  whiskers.  It  was  lucky  that  he  wore 
that  color;  it  made  the  search  easy.  I  even  looked 
for  him  after  midnight — not  only  going  through  the 
day  coaches,  but  asking  the  Pullman  porters  if  such 
a  man  was  aboard.  I  woke  up  more  than  one  red- 
whiskered  man  out  of  his  slumbers  and  asked  him: 
"Is  your  name  Mason?"  One  of  them  wanted  to 
lick  me  for  bothering  him,  but  he  laughed  so  loudly 
when,  in  apologizing,  I  told  him  the  reason  for  my 
search  that  he  woke  up  the  whole  car.  I  never 
found  him  this  way,  and  not  having  his  address,  1 
could  only  wait. 

I  had  just  about  given  up  all  hopes  of  getting  a 

49 


Tales  of  the  Road 

line  on  my  confiding  friend  when,  several  weeks  after 
a  letter  bearing  the  pen  marks  of  many  forwardings, 
caught  me.  I've  got  that  letter;  it  reads  this  way: 

"Walla  Walla,  Dec.  6th. 
"My  Dear  Sir: 

"I  called  on  Mr.  McPherson  today  and  unfor- 
tunately found  him  out  of  the  city.  None  of  his 
clerks  seemed  to  know  you  when  I  presented  your 
request  for  an  advance.  They  all  began  to  look 
askance  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  suspicious  character. 
I  ought  to  have  put  on  my  white  necktie  and  clerical 
look  before  going  in,  but  unluckily  I  wore  only  my 
common,  everyday,  drummer  appearance. 

"I  got  your  address  from  a  fellow  wayfarer  here 
just  minute  ago.  My  train  goes  soon.  I  am 
writing  you  care  of  your  house  as  I'm  a  little  leery 
of  sending  it  care  of  your  friend  McPherson. 

"Your  order  for  the  four  now  reposes  in  the  inside 
pocket  of  my  vest  amongst  my  firm's  cash  and  will 
stand  as  an  I.  O.  U.  against  me  until  I  hear  from 
you.  Even  as  I  write,  my  friend  Dickey,  who  sits 
at  my  left,  keeps  singing  into  my  ear: 

"  'If  I  should  die  tonight  and  you  should  come  to 
my  cold  corpse  and  say: 

"Here,  Bill,  I've  brought  you  back  that  four," 

"  *  "I'd   rise    up    in    my   white    cravat   and   say: 
"What's  that?"     And  then  fall  dead  once  more.' 
"Beseechingly  yours, 

"W.  L.  Mason, 
"Denver,  Box  — ." 

Although  I  sent  Mason  a  check,  it  seemed  that  I 
was  ever  doomed  to  be  in  error  with  him.  I  wrote 

50 


Tales  of  the  Road 

him  insisting  that  he  wear  a  new  hat  on  me  and 
asked  him  to  send  me  his  size. 

He  wrote  back  that  he  was  satisfied  to  get  the 
four  dollars ;  but,  since  I  pressed  the  matter,  his  size 
was  seven  and  one-fourth. 

I  wrote  my  hatter  to  express  a  clear  beaver  to 
Mason.  But  somehow  he  got  the  size  wrong,  for 
Mason  wrote  back : 

"Dear  Brother:  Everything  that  I  have  to  do  with 
you  seems  at  first  all  wrong,  but  finally  wiggles  out 
all  right.  For  example,  while  I  stated  that  my  size 
was  seven  and  one-fourth  your  hatter  sent  a  seven 
and  one-half — two  sizes  too  big  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances. But  I  was  so  tickled  to  get  the  unex- 
pected four  and  a  new  lid  besides  that  my  head 
swelled  and  my  bonnet  fit  me  to  a  T." 


s 


CHAPTER  III. 

SOCIAL  ARTS  AS   SALESMEN^  ASSETS. 

ALESMANSHIP  has  already  been  defined  as 
the  art  of  overcoming  obstacles,  of  turning 
defeat  into  victory  by  the  use  of  tact  and  pa- 
tience. Courtesy  must  become  constitutional  with 
the  drummer  and  diplomacy  must  become  second  na- 
ture to  him.  All  this  may  have  a  very  commercial 
and  politic  ring,  but  its  logic  is  beyond  question.  It 
would  be  a  decided  mistake,  however,  to  conclude 
that  the  business  life  of  the  skilful  salesman  is  ruled 
only  by  selfish,  sordid  or  politic  motives. 

In  the  early  nineties,  I  was  going  through  Western 
Kansas;  it  was  the  year  of  the  drought  and  the 
panic.  Just  as  the  conductor  called  "All  aboard" 
at  a  little  station  where  we  had  stopped  for  water, 
up  drove  one  of  the  boys.  His  pair  of  bronchos 
fairly  dripped  with  sweat;  their  sides  heaved  like 
bellows — they  had  just  come  in  from  a  long,  hard 
drive.  As  the  train  started  the  commercial  tourist 
slung  his  grips  before  him  and  jumped  on.  He  shook 
a  cloud  of  dust  out  of  his  linen  coat,  brushed  dust 
off  his  shoes,  fingered  dust  out  of  his  hair,  and 
washed  dust  off  his  face.  He  was  the  most  dust- 

52 


Tales  of  the  Road 

begrimed  mortal  I  ever  saw.  His  ablutions  made,  he 
sat  down  in  a  double  seat  with  me  and  offered  me  a 
cigar. 

"Close  call,"  said  I. 

"Yes,  you  bet — sixteen  miles  in  an  hour  and  thirty- 
five  minutes.  That  was  the  last  time  I'll  ever  make 
that  drive." 

"Customer  quit  you?" 

"He  hasn't  exaotly  quit  me,  he  has  quit  his  town. 
All  there  ever  has  been  in  his  town  was  a  post  office 
and  a  store,  all  in  one  building;  and  he  lived  in  the 
back  end  of  that.  It  has  never  paid  me  to  go  to 
see  him,  but  he  was  one  of  those  loyal  customers  who 
gave  me  all  he  could  and  gave  it  without  kicking. 
He  gave  me  the  glad  hand — and  that,  you  know, 
goes  a  long  ways — and  for  six  years  I've  been  going 
to  see  him  twice  a  year,  more  to  accommodate  him 
than  for  profit.  The  boys  all  do  lots  of  this  work — 
more  than  merchants  give  them  credit  for.  His  wife 
was  a  fine  little  woman.  Whenever  my  advance  card 
came — she  attended  to  the  post  office — she  would 
always  put  a  couple  of  chickens  in  a  separate  coop 
and  fatten  them  on  breakfast  food  until  I  arrived. 
Her  dinner  was  worth  driving  sixteen  miles  for  if 
I  didn't  sell  a  sou. 

"But  it  is  all  off  now.  The  man  was  always  having 
a  streak  of  hard  luck — grasshoppers,  hail,  hot  winds, 
election  year  or  something,  and  he  has  finally  pulled 
stakes.  When  I  reached  there  this  time  it  was  the 

53 


Tales  of  the  Road 

lonesomest  place  I  ever  saw,  no  more  store  and  post 
office,  no  more  nice  little  wife  and  fried  chicken — 
not  even  a  dog  or  hitching  post.  My  friend  had 
gone  away  and  left  no  reminder  of  himself  save  a 
notice  he  had  lettered  with  a  marking  brush  on  his 
front  door.  Just  as  a  sort  of  a  keepsake  in  memory 
of  my  old  friend  I  took  a  copy.  Here  it  goes : 

u  'A  thousand  feet  to  water ! 
A  thousand  miles  to  wood  I 
I've  quit  this  blasted  country 
Quit  her!     Yes,  for  good. 
The  'hoppers  came  abuzzin' 
But  I  shooed  them  all  away, 
Next  blew  the  hot  winds  furious; 
Still,  I  had  the  grit  to  stay. 
There's  always  something  hap'ning; 
So,  while  I've  got  the  pluck — 
Think  I'll  strike  another  country 
And  see  how  runs  my  luck. 
God  bless  you,  boys,  I  love  you. 
The  drummer  is  my  friend. 
When  I  open  up  my  doors  again, 
Bet  your  life,  for  you  I'll  send.' 

"Wouldn't  that  cork  you?  Say,  let's  get  up  a 
game  of  whist."  With  this  my  friend  took  a  fresh 
cigar  from  me,  and,  whistling,  sauntered  down  the 
aisle  hunting  partners  for  the  game.  The  long  drive, 
the  dust  and  the  loss  of  a  bill  no  longer  disturbed 
him. 

The  man  who  grieves  would  better  stay  off  the 

54 


Tales  of  the  Road 

road.  The  traveling  man  must  digest  disappoint- 
ments as  he  does  a  plate- of  blue  points,  for  he  swal- 
lows them  about  as  often.  One  of  the  severest  dis- 
appointments for  a  road  man  is  to  have  the  pins  for 
a  bill  all  set  and  th^n  have  some  other  man  get  the 
ball  first  and  knock  them  down. 

A  clothing  salesman  told  me  this  story : 

"I  have  been  chasing  trunks  for  a  long  time  but 
last  season  I  got  into  the  worst  scrape  of  all  my 
life  on  the  road.  I  was  a  little  pushed  for  time,  so 
I  wrote  one  of  my  irregular  country  customers  that 
I  would  not  be  able  to  go  to  his  town,  but  that  I 
would  pay  his  expenses  if  he  would  come  in  and  meet 
me  at  Spokane. 

"When  he  showed  up  he  brought  along  his  wife; 
and  his  wife  rolled  a  young  baby  into  my  sample 
room.  It  was  a  pretty  little  kid,  and  struck  me  as 
being  the  best  natured  little  chap  I  had  ever  seen. 
Of  course,  you  know  that  to  jolly  up  my  customer  a 
little  I  had  to  get  on  the  good  side  of  the  wife, 
and  the  best  way  to  do  this  was  to  play  with  the 
baby.  After  I  had  danced  the  little  fellow  around 
for  a  while  I  put  him  back  into  the  buggy  and  sup- 
posed that  I  was  going  to  get  down  to  business.  But 
the  father  said  he  thought  he  would  be  in  town  for 
a  week  or  so  and  that  he  thought  he  would  go  out 
and  find  a  boarding  house. 

uAs  we  were  talking,  a  friend  of  mine  dropped 
in.  He  directed  my  customer  to  a  boarding  house, 

55 


Tales  of  the  Road 

and  then,  just  for  fun,  said:  'Why  don't  you  leave 
the  baby  here  with  us  while  you're  making  arrange- 
ments. Mr.  Percy  has  lots  of  children  at  hcme, 
and  he  knows  how  to  take  care  of  them  all  right.' 
Imagine  how  I  felt  when  my  country  friends  fell  in 
with  the  shoe  man's  suggestion ! 

"Both  of  us  got  along  first  rate  with  the  baby 
for  a  while.  I  really  enjoyed  it  until  my  friend  left 
me  to  go  down  the  street,  and  a  customer  I  was 
expecting  came  in.  I  thought  the  baby  would  get 
along  all  right  by  himself,  and  so  I  started  to  show 
customer  No.  2  my  line  of  goods.  But  the  little  chap 
had  been  spoiled  by  too  much  of  my  coddling  and 
wouldn't  stand  for  being  left  alone.  At  first  he  gave 
a  little  whimper.  I  rolled  him  for  a  minute  or  two 
with  one  hand  and  ran  the  other  over  a  line  of  chev- 
iots and  told  my  customer  how  good  they  were;  but 
the  very  minute  I  let  go  of  the  buggy,  out  broke  the 
kid  again.  I  repeated  this  performance  two  or  three 
times,  but  whenever  I  let  go  the  buggy  handle  the 
baby  yelled.  In  a  few  minutes  he  was  going  it  good 
and  strong,  and  I  had  to  take  him  out  and  bounce 
him  up  and  down.  Now,  you  can  imagine  just  how 
hard  it  is  to  pacify  a  baby  and  sell  a  bill  of  clothing. 
Try  it  if  you  don't.  I  soon  began  to  walk  the  floor 
to  keep  the  kid  from  howling,  and  presently  I  decided 
I  would  rather  keep  that  child  quiet  than  sell  a  bill 
of  goods.  Finally,  customer  number  two  went  out, 

56 


'  WHENEVER  I   LET  GO  THE  BUGGY  HANDLE  THE 
BABY  YELLED." 


Tales  of  the  Road 

saying  he  would  see  me  the  next  morning ;  and  there 
I  was  left  all  alone  with  the  baby  again. 

"I  tried  to  ring  a  bell  and  get  a  chambermaid  to 
take  care  of  him,  but  the  bell  was  broken.  Then  I 
began  to  sing  all  the  songs  I  knew  and  kept  it  up 
until  I  nearly  wore  out  my  throat.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  baby's  mother  never  would  come  back,  but  I  had 
the  happy  satisfaction  of  knowing,  though,  that  the 
baby's  mother  and  father  would  certainly  have  to 
come  back  and  get  the  little  fellow,  and  I  felt  sure  of 
getting  a  good  bill  of  goods. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  happened?  After  two 
hours  the  mother  came  back  and  got  the  baby  and 
I  never  saw  her  husband  again !  A  competitor  of 
mine  had  'swiped'  him  as  he  came  in  the  hotel  office 
and  sold  him  his  bill  of  goods." 

Although  my  friend  Percy  who  rolled  the  baby 
carriage  back  and  forth  lost  out  by  this  operation, 
I  would  advise  my  friends  on  the  road  to  roll  every 
baby  buggy — belonging  to  a  possible  customer — that 
they  have  a  chance  to  get  their  hands  on.  When 
the  merchant  gives  the  traveling  man  an  opportunity 
to  do  him  some  sort  of  a  favor  outside  of  straight 
business  dealing,  he  then  gives  the  drummer  the  best 
possible  chance  to  place  him  under  obligations  which 
will  surely  be  repaid  sometime.  But  don't  go  too  far. 

Down  in  Texas  in  one  of  the  larger  towns,  just 
after  the  Kishinef  horror,  the  Hebrew  clothing  mer- 
chants held  a  charity  ball.  If  you  were  to  eliminate 

57 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  Hebrew  from  the  clothing  business  the  ranks  of 
dealers  in  men's  wearing  apparel  would  be  devas- 
tated. One  of  my  friends  in  the  clothing  business 
told  me  how  he  and  a  furnishing  goods  friend  of  his 
made  hay  at  that  charity  ball: 

"The  day  that  I  struck  town,  one  of  my  customers 
said  to  me,  'We  want  you  to  go  to  the  show  tomorrow 
night  and  open  the  ball  with  a  few  remarks.  Will 
you?' 

"Just  for  fun  I  said,  'To  be  sure  I  will,  Ike.'  I 
did  not  think  I  would  be  taken  in  earnest,  but  the 
next  day  I  received  a  program,  and  right  at  the  head 
of  it  was  my  name  down  for  the  opening  speech. 
Well,  I  was  up  against  it  and  I  had  to  make  good. 
You  may  take  my  word  for  it  that  I  felt  a  little 
nervous  that  night  when  I  came  to  the  big  hall  and 
saw  it  full  of  people  waiting  for  the  opening  address. 
I  needed  to  have  both  sand  on  the  bottoms  of  my 
shoes  and  sand  in  my  upper  story  to  keep  from  slip- 
ping down  on  the  waxed  floor !  But,  as  I  was  in  for  it, 
I  marched  bravely  up  and  sat  down  for  a  few  min- 
utes in  the  big  chair. 

"Then  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was  introduced. 
Now  I  was  really  in  sympathy  with  the  purpose  of 
this  gathering  and  I  felt,  sincerely,  the  atrocity  of 
the  Kishineff  massacre.  Consequently,  I  was  able  to 
speak  from  the  heart  in  telling  my  audience  how 
every  human  being,  without  regard  to  race,  was 
touched  by  such  an  outrage.  Had  I  been  running 


Tales  of  the  Road 

for  Congress  there,  I  would  have  received  every  vote 
in  the  house.  The  women  sent  special  requests  by 
their  husbands,  asking  the  honor  of  a  dance  with  me. 

"Remember  that  the  traveling  man  must  not  over- 
look the  wife  of  his  customer.  Generally  a  man's 
nearest  and  truest  friend  is  his  wife.  The  business 
man  feels  that  she  is  his  best  counselor.  If  you  can* 
get  the  good  will  of  the  'women  folks'  of  your  cus- 
tomer's household  you  may  be  sure  you  will  be  solid 
with  him  for  keeps. 

"But  I  must  not  overlook  my  furnishing  goods 
friend.  He  had  been  trained  for  an  opera  singer 
and  would  have  made  a  success  of  it  had  he  kept  up 
with  that  profession.  His  business,  however,  pros- 
pered so  well  that  he  could  never  go  and  look  the 
prompter  in  the  face.  He  had  a  rich,  full,  deep 
voice  which,  when  he  sang  the  Holy  City,  made  the 
chandeliers  fairly  hum.  There  is  something  in  the 
melodious  human  voice,  anyway,  that  goes  away 
down  deep  into  the  heart.  My  friend  won  every- 
body there  with  a  song.  He  with  his  music  and 
I  with  my  speech  had  done  a  courtesy  to  those  mer- 
chants which  they  and  their  wives  appreciated.  You 
know  you  can  feel  it,  somehow,  when  you  are  in 
true  accord  with  those  you  meet. 

"We  really  did  not  think  anything  about  the  busi- 
ness side  that  night.  I  forgot  it  altogether  until, 
upon  leaving  the  hall,  my  friend  Ike  said  to  me: 
'Tonight  we  dance,  tomorrow  we  sell  closing  again.' 

59 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Both  of  us  did  a  good  business  in  that  town  on  the 
strength  of  the  charity  ball,  and  we  have  held  our 
friends  there  as  solid  customers.  I  say  'solid  cus- 
tomers' but  actually  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  'solid 
customer.'  The  very  best  friend  you  have  will  slip 
away  from  you  sometime,  break  out  your  corral,  and 
you  must  mount  your  broncho,  chase  him  down  and 
rope  him  in  again. 

A  mighty  true  saying,  that!  It  is  a  great  dis- 
appointment to  call  upon  a  customer  with  whom  you 
have  been  doing  business  for  a  long  time  and  find 
that  he  has  already  bought.  Ofttimes  this  happens, 
however,  because  when  you  become  intimate  with  a 
merchant  you  fail  to  continue  to  impress  upon  him 
the  merits  of  your  merchandise.  However  tight  a 
rope  the  salesman  feels  that  he  has  upon  a  mer- 
chant, he  should  never  cease  to  let  him  know  and 
make  him  feel  that  the  goods  he  is  selling  are  strictly 
right;  for  if  he  lets  the  line  slacken  a  little  the  mer- 
chant may  take  a  run  and  snap  it  in  two. 

One  of  my  hat  friends  once  told  me  how  he  went 
in  to  see  an  old  customer  named  Williams,  down  in 
Texas,  and  found  that  he  had  bought  a  bill. 

"When  I  reached  home,"  said  he,  "I  handed  my 
checks  to  a  porter,  slipped  half  a  dollar  into  his  hand 
and  told  him  to  rush  my  trunks  right  up  to  the 
sample  room." 

This  is  a  thing  that  a  salesman  should  do  on  gen- 
eral principles.  When  he  has  spent  several  dollars 

60 


Tales  of  the  Road 

and  many  hours  to  get  to  a  town  he  should  bear  in 
mind  that  he  is  there  for  business,  and  that  he  can- 
not do  business  well  unless  he  has  his  goods  in  a 
sample  room.  The  man  who  goes  out  to  work  trade 
with  his  trunks  at  the  depot  does  so  with  only  half 
a  heart.  If  a  man  persuades  himself  that  there  is  no* 
business  in  a  town  for  him  he  would  better  pass  it 
up.  When  he  gets  to  a  town  the  first  thing  he 
should  do  is  to  get  out  samples. 

"When  I  had  opened  up  my  line,"  continued  my 
friend,  "I  went  over  to  Williams'  store.  I  called  at 
the  window  as  usual  and  said,  'Well,  Williams,  I  am 
open  and  ready  for  you  at  any  time.  When  shall  we 
go  over?' 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  Dickie,'  said  he,  'I've  bought 
your  line  for  this  season.  I  might  just  as  well  come 
square  out  with  it.' 

"  That  is  all  right,  Joe,'  said  I.  'If  that  is  the 
case,  it  will  save  us  the  trouble  of  doing  the  work 
over  again.'  In  truth,  my  heart  had  sunk  clear 
down  to  my  heels,  but  I  never  let  on.  I  simply 
smiled  over  the  situation.  The  worst  thing  I  could 
have  done  would  be  to  get  mad  and  pout  about  it. 
Had  I  done  so  I  should  have  lost  out  for  good. 
The  salesman  who  drops  a  crippled  wing  weakens 
himself,  so  I  put  on  a  smiling  front.  This  made 
Williams  become  apologetic,  for  when  he  saw  that 
I  took  the  situation  good-naturedly  he  felt  sorry  that 

61 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  could  not  give  me  business  and  began  to  make 
explanations. 

"  'I  tell  you,'  said  he,  'this  other  man  came  around 
and  told  me  that  he  could  sell  me  a  hat  for  twenty- 
one  dollars  a  dozen  as  good  as  you  are  selling  for 
twenty-four,  and  I  thought  it  was  to  my  business 
interest  to  buy  them.  I  thought  I  might  as  well  have 
that  extra  twenty-five  cents  on  every  hat  as  your 
firm.' 

"There!  He  haa  given  me  my  chance!  Will- 
iams,' said  I,  'you  bought  these  other  goods  on  your 
judgment.  Do  you  not  owe  it  to  yourself  to  know 
how  good  your  judgment  on  hats  is?  You  and  I 
have  been  such  good  friends — Heaven  knows  I  have 
not  a  better  one  in  this  country,  Joe — that  I  never 
talk  business  to  you  and  George,  your  buyer.  Now, 
I'll  tell  you  what  is  a  fair  proposition.  You  and 
George  come  over  to  my  sample  room  this  after- 
noon at  i  :3<D — I  leave  at  four — and  I  will  find  out 
how  good  your  judgment  and  George's  is  when  it 
comes  to  buying  hats.'  Williams  said:  'All  right, 
i  :3O  goes.' 

"I  immediately  left,  having  a  definite  appoint- 
ment. I  went  to  my  sample  room  and  laid  out  in 
a  line  twelve  different  samples  of  hats,  the  prices 
of  which  ranged,  in  jumps  of  three  dollars  per  dozen, 
from  nine  dollars  to  twenty-seven  dollars.  In  the 
afternoon  I  went  back  to  the  store  and  got  Williams 
and  George.  As  we  entered  the  sample  room,  I  said : 

62 


'TO-NIGHT  WE  DANCE,  TO-MORROW  WE  SELL  CLOTHES  AGAIN." 


Tales  of  the  Road 

'Now,  Williams,  we  are  over  here — you,  George 
and  myself — to  see  what  you  know  about  hats.  If 
there  is  any  line  of  goods  in  which  you  should  know 
values,  certainly  it  is  the  line  you  have  been  handling 
for  six  years.  You  have  fingered  them  over  every 
day  and  ought  to  know  the  prices  of  them.  Here  is 
a  line  of  goods  right  out  of  the  house  from  which 
you  have  been  buying  so  long.  The  prices  range 
from  nine  dollars  to  twenty-seven  dollars  a  dozen. 
Will  it  not  be  a  fair  test  of  your  judgment  and 
George's  for  you  to  examine  these  goods  very  care- 
fully— everything  but  the  brands — for  these  would 
indicate  the  price — and  lay  out  this  line  so  that  the 
cheaper  hats  will  be  at  one  end  of  the  bunch  and  the 
best  ones  at  the  other?  Very  well!  Now  just 
straighten  out  this  line  according  to  price.' 

"  Well,  that  looks  fair  to  me,'  said  Williams. 

"He  and  George  went  to  work  to  straighten  out 
the  goods  according  to  price.  They  put  a  nine  dol- 
lar hat  where  a  twelve  dollar  hat  should  have  been, 
and  vice  versa.  They  put  a  twenty-four  dollar  hat 
where  a  twenty-four  dollar  hat  belonged,  and  an 
eighteen  dollar  hat  right  beside  it,  indicating  that  the 
two  were  of  the  same  quality.  The  next  hat  I  handed 
them  was  one  worth  sixteen  dollars  and  a  half  a 
dozen.  It  contained  considerable  chalk  that  made  it 
feel  smooth.  After  examining  the  'sweat,'  name  and 
everything  they  both  agreed  that  this  was  a  twenty- 

63 


Tales  of  the  Road 

seven  dollars  a  dozen  hat.  When  they  did  this,  I 
said  : 

'  'Gentlemen,  I  will  torture  you  no  longer.  Let  me 
preface  a  few  remarks  by  saying  that  neither  one  of 
you  knows  a  single,  solitary,  blooming  thing  about 
hats.  Here  is  a  hat  that  you  say  is  worth  twenty- 
four  dollars  a  dozen.  Look  at  the  brand.  You  have 
it  on  your  own  shelves.  You  have  been  buying  them 
of  this  quality  for  six  years  at  eighteen  dollars  a 
dozen.  And,  what  is  worse  still,  here  is  a  hat  the 
price  of  which  you  see  in  plain  figures  is  sixteen  dol- 
lars and  a  half,  and  you  say  it  is  worth  twenty-seven 
dollars  a  dozen.' 

uThe  faces  of  Williams  and  George  looked  as 
blank  as  a  freshly  whitewashed  fence.  I  saw  that  I 
had  them.  Then  was  the  time  for  me  to  be  bold.  A 
good  account  was  at  stake,  and  at  stake  right  then. 
Besides,  my  reputation  was  at  stake.  When  a  sales- 
man loses  a  good  account  the  news  of  it  spreads  all 
over  his  territory,  and  on  account  of  losing  one  cus- 
tomer directly  he  will  lose  many  more  indirectly ;  for 
merchants  will  hear  of  it  and  on  the  strength  of  the 
information,  lose  confidence  in  the  line  itself.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  you  can  knock  your  competitor 
out  of  a  good  account  it  is  often  equal  to  securing 
half  a  dozen  more.  I  did  not  wish  to  lose  out  even 
for  one  season,  so  I  said :  'Now  look  here,  Williams, 
you  have  bought  this  other  line  of  goods,  and  per- 
haps you  feel  that  you  have  enough  for  this  season 


Tales  of  the  Road 

and  tKat  you  will  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 
You  are  satisfied  in  your  own  mind,  and  you  have 
told  me  as  plainly  as  you  ever  told  me  anything  in 
your  life,  that  my  goods  are  better  than  those  that 
you  have  bought.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  one  thing 
now  that  I  would  not  say  in  the  beginning:  that 
you  have  bought  from  a  line  of  samples  the  goods 
of  which  will  not  equal  the  samples  you  have  looked 
at.  It  is  not  the  samples  that  you  buy  but  it  is  the 
goods  that  are  delivered  to  you.  Those  which  will 
be  delivered  will  not  be  as  good  as  those  which  you 
looked  at.  You  know  full  well  that  my  goods  have 
always  come  up  to  samples.  You  know  that  they 
are  reliable.  Why  do  you  wish  to  change?  If  you 
wish  to  change  for  the  sake  of  making  an  additional 
twenty-five  cents  on  each  hat  instead  of  giving  it  to 
my  firm,  why  did.  you  not  take  the  hat  which  I  have 
been  selling  you  all  the  time  for  $18  a  dozen  and 
sell  it  for  three  dollars,  the  price  you  have  always 
been  getting  for  my  twenty-four  dollars  a  dozen 
hats?  In  that  way  you  would  make  an  additional 
twenty-five  cents.  Be  logical!  If  that's  not  profit 
enough,  why  not  sell  a$i5ora$i2a  dozen  hat  for 
$3  ?  Be  logical !  If  that's  not  enough,  why  not  hire 
a  big  burly  duffer  to  stand  at  your  front  door,  knock 
down  every  man  who  comes  in  so  that  you  can  take 
all  the  money  he  has  without  giving  him  anything. 
You  could  bury  him  in  the  cellar.  Be  logical.' 

65 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  '  'Fraid  they'd  put  me  in  the  "pen",'  said  Will- 
iams. 

"  'If  I  were  a  judge  and  you  were  brought  before 
me  charged  with  selling  the  twenty-one  dollars  a 
dozen  hat  that  you  have  bought  to  take  the  place  of 
mine  (for  which  I  charge  you  twenty- four  dollars  a 
dozen)  I  would  give  you  a  life  sentence.  Let  me  tell 
you,  Williams,  a  man  who  is  in  business,  if  he  expects 
to  remain  in  the  same  place  a  long  time,  must  give 
good  values  to  his  customers.  In  the  course  of  time 
they  will  find  out  whether  the  stuff  he  gives  them  is 
good  or  poor.  Go  into  a  large  establishment  with 
a  good  reputation  and  you  will  find  out  that  they 
give  to  the  people  who  come  to  buy  merchandise 
from  them  good  values.  Now,  the  goods  I  have 
sold  you  have  always  given  your  trade  satisfaction. 
Your  business  in  my  department  is  increasing,  so 
you  say,  and  the  reason  is  because  you  are  giving  to 
your  customers  good  values.  Why  not  continue  to 
pursue  this  same  policy?  I  am  in  town  to  do  busi- 
ness and  to  do  business  today.  I  cannot  and  I  will 
not  take  a  turn  down.  If  you  want  to  continue  to 
buy  my  goods  you  must  buy  them  and  buy  them 
right  now,  even  if  you  do  have  to  take  them  right 
on  top  of  the  other  stuff  that  you  have  bought.  I 
shall  make  no  compromise.  My  price  is  $1,000 — 
more  than  you  ever  bought  from  me  before.1 

"  'George,'  said  Williams,  turning  to  his  buyer,  'I 

66 


Tales  of  the  Road 

guess  Dickie  has  us.  Give  him  an  order  for  $1,000 
and  don't  let's  go  chasing  the  end  of  a  rainbow  in 
such  a  hurry  any  more.' ' 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TRICKS  OF  THE  TRADE. 

THE  man  who  believes  that  on  every  traveling 
man's  head  should  rest  a  dunce  cap  will  some 
fine  day  get  badly  fooled  if  he  continues  to 
rub  up  against  the  drummer.  The  road  is  the  big- 
gest college  in  the  world.  Its  classrooms  are  not  con- 
fined within  a  few  gray  stone  buildings  with  red 
slate  roofs;  they  are  the  nooks  and  corners  of  the 
earth.  Its  teachers  are  not  a  few  half  starved  silk 
worms  feeding  upon  green  leaves  doled  out  by  phil- 
anthropic millionaires,  but  live,  active  men  who  plant 
their  own  mulberry  trees.  When  a  man  gets  a  sheep- 
skin from  this  school,  he  doesn't  need  to  go  scuf- 
fling around  for  work;  he  already  has  a  job.  Its 
museum  contains,  not  a  few  small  specimens  of  ore, 
but  is  the  mine  itself. 

Let  your  son  take  an  ante-graduate  course  of  a 
few  years  on  the  road  and  he  will  know  to  what  use 
to  put  his  book  learning  when  he  gets  that.  I  do 
not  decry  book  lore;  the  midnight  incandescent 
burned  over  the  classic  page  is  a  good  thing.  I 
am  merely  saying  that  lots  of  good  copper  wire  goes 
to  waste,  because  too  many  college  "grads"  start  their 

68 


Tales  of  the  Road 

education  wrong  end  first.  They  do  not  know  for 
what  they  are  working.  If  I  were  running  a  school 
my  way  and  the  object  was  to  teach  a  boy  method, 
I'd  hand  him  a  sample  grip  before  I'd  give  him  a 
volume  of  Euclid.  Last  night  a  few  ideas  struck 
me  when  I  thought  my  day's  work  was  done.  I 
jumped  out  of  bed  seven  times  in  twenty  minutes  and 
struck  seven  matches  so  I  could  see  to  jot  down  the 
points.  The  man  on  the  road  learns  to  "do  it  now." 
Too  many  traveling  men  waste  their  months  of 
leisure.  Like  Thomas  Moore,  in  their  older  days 
they  will  wail : 

"Thus  many,   like  me,   who  in  youth  should  have 

.'  tasted 

The  fountain  that  flows  by  philosophy's  shrine, 
Their  time  with  the  flowers   on   its  margin  have 

wasted 
And  left  their  light  urns  all  as  empty  as  mine." 

Yet  many  improve  their  hours  of  leisure  from 
business;  if  they  do  not,  it  is  their  own  fault.  I 
met  an  old  acquaintance  on  the  street  yesterday.  "My 
season  is  too  short,"  said  he.  "I  wish  I  could  find 
something  to  do  between  trips."  I  asked  him  why 
he  did  not  write  for  newspapers  or  do  a  dozen  other 
things  that  I  mentioned.  "I'm  incapable,"  he  re- 
plied. "Well,  that  isn't  my  fault,"  said  I.  "No," 
he  answered,  "it's  mine!" 

I  know  one  man  on  the  road  who  found  time  to 


Tales  of  the  Road 

learn  the  German  language.  And,  by  the  way,  he 
told  me  how  it  once  served  him  a  good  turn. 

"Once,"  said  he,  "when  I  was  up  in  Minnesota,  a 
few  years  ago,  I  got  a  big  merchant  to  come  over 
and  look  at  my  goods.  That,  you  know,  was  half  of 
the  battle." 

And  so  it  is !  When  a  merchant  goes  into  a  drum- 
mer's sample  room,  he  is  on  the  field  of  Liao  Yang 
and,  if  he  doesn't  look  out,  the  drummer  will  prove 
himself  the  Jap ! 

"It  was  my  first  trip  to  the  town,"  continued  my 
friend.  "The  first  thing  my  prospective  customer 
picked  up  after  he  came  into  my  room  was  a  sample 
of  a  'Yucatan'  hat.  You  know  how  it  goes — when  a 
merchant  comes  into  your  sample  room  for  the  first 
time  he  picks  up  the  things  he  knows  the  price  of. 
If  the  prices  on  these  are  high,  he  soon  leaves  you; 
if  they  seem  right  to  him  he  has  confidence  in  the 
rest  of  your  line  and  usually  buys  if  the  styles  suit 
him.  The  way  to  sell  goods  is  either  to  have  lower 
prices  or  else  make  your  line  show  up  better  than 
your  competitor's.  Even  though  your  prices  be  the 
same  as  his,  you  can  often  win  out  by  displaying 
your  goods  better  than  your  competitor  does.  Many 
a  time  he  is  too  lazy  to  spread  his  goods  and  show 
what  he  really  has;  and  his  customer  thinks  the  line 
'on  the  bum'  when,  in  truth,  it  is  not. 

The  merchant,  Alex  Strauss  was  his  name, 
couldn't  have  picked  up  a  luckier  thing  for  me  than 

70 


Tales  of  the  Road 

this  Yucatan  hat.  The  year  previous,  my  house  had 
imported  them  finished,  but  that  year  we  had  had 
them  trimmed  in  our  own  shop.  The  duty  was  much 
less  on  the  unfinished  body  than  on  the  trimmed  hat; 
therefore,  the  price  had  dropped  considerably. 

"  'How  much  do  you  vant  for  dis?'  said  Strauss, 
picking  up  the  Yucatan. 

"  Nine  dollars  a  dozen/'  said  I,  without  explain- 
ing why  the  price  was  so  low.  It  would  have  been 
as  foolish  for  me  to  do  this,  you  know,  as  to  play 
poker  with  my  cards  on  the  table  face  up. 

"Strauss  turned  to  his  clerk  Morris,  who  was  with 
him.  They  both  examined  the  hat,  and  Alex  said 
in  German  to  Morris :  'Den  selben  Hut  haben  wir 
gehabt.  Letzes  Jahr  haben  wir  sechzehn  und  ein 
halb  den  Dutzen  bezahlt.  Das  1st  sehr  billig!  (The 
same  hat  we  had.  Last  year  we  paid  sixteen  and  a 
half  a  dozen.  This  is  very  cheap.) 

"Then  Alex  turned  to  me — he  was  a  noted  bluffer 
— and  said  in  English :  'Hefens  alife !  Nine  tol- 
lars!  Vy,  I  pought  'em  last  year  for  sefen  and  a 
half!' 

"I  never  saw  such  a  bold  stand  in  my  life.  The 
expression  on  his  face  would  have  won  a  jackpot  on 
a  bob-tailed  flush.  But  I  was  in  position  to  call  his 
bluff.  His  cards  were  on  the  table  face  up. 

"I  merely  repeated  his  own  words  in  his  own 
tongue :  (Den  selben  Hut  haben  wir  gehabt.  Letzes 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Jahr  haben  wir  sechzehn  und  em  halb  den  Dutzen 
bezahlt.  Das  1st  sehr  billig.' 

"  'Hier,  dake  a  seecar  on  me,'  said  Alex,  offering 
me  a  smoke.  He  bought  a  good  bill  from  me  and 
has  been  a  good  customer  ever  since. 

"Just  to  let  you  know  what  a  hard  proposition 
Strauss  was,  I'll  tell  you  another  incident  in  connec- 
tion with  him : 

"  'After  I  had  known  Alex  for  two  years  I  went 
into  his  store  one  morning,  when  I  was  on  my  fall 
trip.  He  came  from  behind  the  counter  to  meet  me, 
wearing  upon  his  face  a  smile  of  triumph.  He  had 
never  approached  me  before;  I  always  had  to  hunt 
him  down. 

"I  said,  'Hello,  Alex,  how  goes  it?' 

"  'Dis  is  how  choes  id,'  said  he,  handing  me  a 
card.  'Dot's  de  way  id  choes  mit  ev'rypody  dis  sea- 


son.' 


"On  the  card  which  he  handed  me — and  to  every 
traveling  man  who  came  in — were  these  words: 
'Don't  waste  your  time  on  me;  I  will  not  buy  any 
goods  until  I  go  to  market.  Alex.' 

"Reading  the  card  quickly,  I  said  to  him:  'Thank 
you,  Alex,  may  I  have  another  one  of  these  cards?' 

"He  handed  me  another  one,  saying,  'Vot  you 
vant  mit  anudder  vun  ?' 

'  'I  want  one  to  hold  as  a  keepsake  of  the  man, 
of  all  men,  who  is  gladdest  to  see  me  when  I  get 

72 


Tales  of  the  Road 

around;  the  other  I  shall  pin  to  the  order  I  shall 
take  from  you  today  and  send  to  my  firm/ 

"With  a  sweeping  bow,  I  said,  *  Adieu,  Alex;  Auf 
wiedersehen,'  and  left  the  store. 

"I  knew  Alex's  habits.  He  always  went  to  dinner 
when  the  town  clock  struck  twelve.  A  deaf  shoe- 
maker in  the  next  block  regulated  his  watch,  they 
say,  by  Alex's  movements.  A  few  minutes  past 
twelve  I  went  back  to  the  store  and  left  on  the  front 
show  case  a  bunch  of  samples  done  up  in  a  red  cloth. 
On  some  of  them  were  large  green  tags  telling  the 
quantity  I  had  of  each  and  the  price.  I  also  wrote 
on  the  green  tags  the  words  'Job  Lot.' 

"I  knew  that  Alex  would  see  the  bundle;  and  I 
knew  that  he  would  open  it — a  merchant  will  always 
look  at  samples  if  you  take  them  to  his  store.  I  also 
knew  that  Alex,  when  he  saw  the  mystic  words  cjob 
Lot,'  would  be  half  crazy.  Adam  and  Eve  were  not 
more  tempted  by  the  forbidden  fruit  than  is  the 
Yehuda  (Hebrew)  merchant  by  a  metziah  (bar- 
gain). 

"I  went  back  to  the  hotel.  After  luncheon  I  sent 
out  my  advance  cards  and  took  up  a  book.  My  mind 
was  perfectly  easy,  because  I  knew  just  exactly  what 
was  going  to  happen. 

"At  a  quarter  to  six,  Abie,  Alex's  boy,  disturbed 
me  while  I  was  in  the  middle  of  a  chapter  and  said: 
Tapa  wants  to  see  you  right  away.  The  store  closes 
at  six.' 

73 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"I  knew  that  meant  business,  but  I  said  to  Abie: 
'Tell  your  papa  if  he'll  excuse  me  I'll  not  come  over. 
Won't  you  please  say  goodbye  to  him  for  me  ?  And 
won't  you,  Abie,  like  a  good  boy — bring  me  a  bundle 
I  left  on  the  show  case.  It  has  a  red  cloth  around 
it' 

" Finishing  my  chapter,  I  started  slowly  toward 
Alex's  store.  I  met  Abie.  But  he  didn't  have  the 
red  bundle — I  knew  he  wouldn't. 

"  'Papa  says,  come  over.  He  wants  to  see  you,' 
said  Abie. 

As  I  went  into  the  store  a  minute  before  six,  Alex 
was  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor.  My  samples 
were  spread  upon  the  show  case. 

"  'Eff  you  vant  your  samples,  dake  'em  avay  your- 
self. Do  you  subbose  I  raice  poys  to  vait  on  dravel- 
ing  men?'  said  Alex.  He  was  keeping  up  his  bluff 
well. 

"With  this  I  began  to  stack  together  my  samples. 

"'Vait!  Vait!'  said  Alex,  'Aind  you  choing  to 
gif  a  man  a  jance  to  puy  some  choots?' 

'  'Sure,'  said  I,  'if  you  want  to,  but  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  wait  until  you  went  into  market.' 

"  'Veil,  you  vas  a  taisy,'  said  Alex;  and  in  three 
minutes — he  was  the  quickest  buyer  I  ever  saw — 
I  booked  an  order  for  six  hundred  dollars. 

'  'Now,  I  see,'  said  Alex,  as  he  shook  hands  and 
started  home,  Vot  you  vanted  mit  dot  udder  cart.'  " 

Strategy  will  win  out  in  business,  but  not  decep- 

74 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tion.  The  traveling  man  who  wishes  to  win  in  the 
race  of  commerce,  if  he  plays  sharp  tricks,  will  get 
left  at  the  quarter  post.  It  is  rather  hard,  some- 
times, to  keep  from  plucking  apples  that  grow  in 
the  garden  of  deception,  especially  if  they  hang  over 
the  fence.  I  sat  one  night  beside  one  of  the  boys 
who  was  sending  out  his  advance  cards.  He  was 
making  his  first  trip  over  a  new  territory. 

"Blast  it!"  said  he,  tearing  up  a  card  he  had  writ- 
ten. 

"Don't  swear,  or  you'll  not  catch  any  fish,"  said  I. 

"Yes,  but  I  did  such  a  fool  thing.  I  addressed 
a  card  to  a  merchant  and  then  turned  it  over  and 
signed  his  name — not  mine — to  it.  Wasn't  that  a 
fool  thing  to  do?" 

"No,  not  at  all,"  I  replied,  laughing.  "If  you  had 
sent  that  card  to  him,  he  would  have  read  it.  Other- 
wise, he  will  chuck  the  one  you  do  send  into  the 
basket." 

"Bright  idea!"  quoth  my  friend. 

A  few  months  afterward  I  met  this  same  man. 
"Say,"  said  he,  "that  was  a  straight  tip  you  gave 
me  on  that  advance  card  scheme.  It  worked  like  a 
charm.  Half  of  the  men  I  went  to  see  had  kept  the 
cards  on  their  desks  and  I  had  no  trouble  getting 
their  ears.  Some  were  expecting  a  long  lost  relative. 
When  they  showed  me  my  cards  with  their  names 
on  them  I  was  always  amazed  at  such  a  queer  mis- 

75 


Tales  of  the  Road 

take.  There  was  one  exception.  I  told  one  man  why 
I  did  it,  and  he  nearly  threw  me  out  of  his  store." 

When  I  was  told  this  I  felt  ashamed  to  think  I 
had  taught  duplicity  to  an  innocent.  I  did  not  know 
to  what  it  might  lead  him. 

Stolen  fruits  may  look  like  they  are  sweet,  but 
taste  them,  and  they  are  bitter.  I  knew  a  man  who 
sold  shoes  in  the  State  of  Washington.  He  was 
shrewd  and  sharp.  He  learned  of  an  old  English- 
man who,  although  his  store  was  in  an  out  of  the 
way  town,  did  a  large  business.  The  shoeman  wrote 
half  a  dozen  letters  to  himself  care  of  the  old  Eng- 
lishman, addressing  them  as  "Lord"  So  and  So. 
When  he  reached  the  town  the  Englishman  most 
graciously  handed  him  the  letters,  and  to  all  ques- 
tions of  the  shoeman,  who  commanded  a  good  Brit- 
ish accent,  answered,  uYes,  my  lord,"  or  uNo,  my 
lord." 

The  shoe  man  explained  that,  like  the  merchant, 
he  had  hated  to  leave  the  old  country,  but  that 
America — sad  to  state — was  a  more  thrifty  country 
and  he  had  invested  in  a  large  shoe  factory  in  Bos- 
ton. He  said  he  was  merely  out  traveling  for  his 
health  and  to  look  over  the  country  with  a  view  to 
placing  a  traveling  salesman  on  the  territory.  The 
Englishman  gave  him  a  large  open  order,  supposing, 
of  course,  that  a  lord  would  carry  no  samples.  The 
old  merchant  was  so  tickled  at  having  a  chance  to 
buy  from  a  lord  that,  notwithstanding  his  reserve, 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  one  day  told  his  dry  goods  man  about  it.  This 
was  shortly  before  the  goods  arrived. 

"Why,  that  fellow,"  said  the  dry  goods  man,  "is 
no  more  of  a  lord  than  I  am.  He  is  not  even  an 
Englishman."  He  did  not  know  that  he  was  "queer- 
ing" a  bill,  for  this  is  one  thing  that  one  traveling  man 
will  never  deliberately  do  to  another.  He  knows  too 
well  what  a  battle  it  is  to  win  a  bill,  and  he  will  not 
knowingly  snatch  from  the  victor  the  spoils  of  war. 

The  old  Englishman  returned  the  "lord's"  goods 
without  opening  the  cases. 

Although  the  lord  did  not  steal  a  base  on  his  sharp 
run,  I  know  of  one  instance  where  a  shrewd  traveling 
man  sold  a  bill  by  a  smart  trick. 

In  Ohio  there  was  a  merchant  notoriously  hard  to 
approach.  He  was  one  of  the  kind  who,  when  you 
told  him  your  business,  would  whistle  and  walk  away 
and  who  would  always  have  something  to  do  in  an- 
other part  of  the  store  when  you  drew  near  him  the 
second  time.  What  an  amount  of  trouble  a  man  of 
that  kind  makes  for  himself !  The  traveling  man  is 
always  ready  to  "make  it  short."  When  he  goes  into 
a  store  the  thing  he  wishes  to  know,  and  how  quickly, 
is:  "Can  I  do  any  business  here?"  The  merchant 
will  have  no  trouble  getting  rid  of  the  drummer  if  he 
will  only  be  frank.  All  he  must  do  is  to  give  a  fair 
reason  why  he  does  not  wish  to  do  business.  He  can 
say:  "I  have  bought" — that  is  the  best  one,  if  it  is 
true ;  it  is  the  index  finger  pointing  out  a  short  route 

77 


Tales  of  the  Road 

for  the  salesman  straight  to  the  front  door.  Or,  he 
can  say:  "I  have  all  in  that  line  I  can  use  for  some 
time."  "I  have  an  old  personal  friend  to  whom  I 
give  my  trade  for  these  goods — he  treats  me  square- 
ly" is  a  good  answer.  So,  too,  is  the  statement.  "I 
have  an  established  trade  on  this  brand,  my  custom- 
ers ask  for  it,  and  it  gives  them  entire  satisfaction — 
what's  the  use  of  changing?"  Any  one  of  these 
statements  will  either  rid  the  merchant  of  the  trav- 
eling man  or  else  raise  an  issue  soon  settled. 

I  will  let  my  friend  himself  tell  how  he  got  the 
ear  of  the  whistling  merchant. 

4 'The  boys  had  told  me  old  Jenkins  was  hard  to 
get  next  to,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to  reach  him. 
It's  lots  more  fun  anyway  to  land  a  trout  in  swift 
water  than  to  pull  a  carp  out  of  a  muddy  pond;  be- 
sides the  game  fish  is  better  to  eat.  When  I  went 
into  his  store,  Jenkins  fled  from  me,  and  going 
into  his  private  office,  slammed  the  door  behind  him. 
I  made  for  the  office.  I  had  not  come  within  ten 
feet  from  the  window  before  the  old  man  said  gruf- 
fly: 'I  don't  want  to  buy  any  goods;  I  don't  want 
even  to  listen  to  a  traveling  man  this  morning.' 

"This  did  not  stop  me.  I  walked  to  the  window, 
took  a  pad  of  paper  out  of  my  pocket  and  wrote  on 
a  slip:  *I  have  some  samples  I  would  like  to  show 
you.  I  will  bring  them  over.'  I  handed  the  slip  to 
old  Jenkins  and  left  him.  The  man  who  can  do 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  odd,  unexpected  thing,  is  the  one  who  gets  the 
ear. 

"When  I  brought  my  samples  in — I  sell  a  specialty 
line  of  baby  shoes — I  spread  them  on  the  counter. 
The  old  man  was  curious  to  see. what  a  'deaf  and 
dumb  man'  was  selling,  I  suppose,  for  up  he  marched 
and  looked  at  my  line.  He  picked  up  a  shoe  and 
wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper:  'How  much?'  I  wrote 
the  price  and  passed  the  slip  back  to  him.  'What 
are  your  terms  ?'  he  wrote  back.  'Bill  dated  Novem- 
ber ist,  5%  off,  ten  days,'  I  replied  on  paper.  'Price 
your  line  right  through,'  he  scribbled. 

"With  this  I  wrote  the  price  of  each  shoe  on  a 
slip  and  put  it  under  the  sample.  Old  Jenkins  called 
his  shoe  man.  They  both  agreed  that  the  line  was 
exceptional — just  what  they  wanted — and  that  the 
prices  were  low.  But  the  old  man  wrote:  'Can't  use 
any  of  your  goods;  the  line  I  am  buying  is  cheaper.' 

I  made  no  answer  to  this  but  began  packing  my 
grip.  The  old  man  tried  to  write  me  so  fast  that  he 
broke  the  points  off  his  pencil  and  the  clerk's.  While 
he  sharpened  his  pencil  I  kept  on  packing.  He  took 
hold  of  my  hand  and  made  a  curious  sign,  saying, 
'Wait.'  But  I  went  right  on  until  the  old  man  had 
written:  'Don't  pack  up.  I  will  buy  some  goods 
from  you  because  I  feel  sorry  for  you.' 

:'  'Thank  you,  sir,'  I  wrote,  'but  I  am  no  charity 
bird;  I  want  to  sell  goods  only  to  those  who  appre- 
ciate my  values.  Charity  orders  are  always  small  ones 

79 


Tales  of  the  Road 

and  a  small  one  will  not  be  sufficient  for  me  to  give 
you  the  exclusive  sale.'  That  was  a  clincher,  for 
when  a  merchant  sees  a  good  thing  he  will  overbuy, 
you  know,  just  to  keep  his  competitor  from  having  a 
chance  at  it.  I  started  again  packing. 

"  'I  really  like  your  goods  and  will  buy  a  nice  bill 
if  you  will  sell  no  one  else  in  town/  wrote  the  old 
man  nervously.  4I  was  only  joking  with  you.' 

"Just  as  I  had  finished  writing  down  my  order, 
never  having  spoken  a  word  to  old  Jenkins,  a  travel- 
ing man  friend  came  in  and  said,  in  his  presence: 
'Hello,  Billy!  How  are  you?' 

"  Tretty  well,  thank  you,'  said  I. 

"'What!  Can  you  hear  and  talk?'  half  yelled 
the  old  man. 

"  'To  be  sure,'  I  wrote  back,  'but  it  would  have 
been  impolite  to  talk  to  you;  because  you  said,  as  I 
drew  near  the  window,  you  didn't  wish  to  listen  to  a 
traveling  man  this  morning.  Thank  you  for  your 
order.  Good-bye.' 

The  old  man  never  forgot  that  day.  The  last  time 
I  was  around,  he  said,  'Confound  you,  Billy!  What 
makes  you  ask  me  if  I  want  any  baby  shoes?  You 
know  I  do  and  that  I  want  yours.  I  believe,  though, 
if  you  were  to  die  I'd  have  to  quit  handling  the  line; 
it  would  seem  so  strange  to  buy  them  from  any  but 
a  deaf  and  dumb  man.'  ' 

It  is  all  right  for  the  traveling  man  to  put  his  wit 
against  the  peculiarities  of  a  wise,  crusty  old  buyer, 

80 


Tales  of  the  Road 

but  it  is  wrong  to  play  smart  with  a  confiding  mer- 
chant who  knows  comparatively  little  of  the  world. 
The  innocent  will  learn. 

A  clothing  man  once  told  me  of  a  sharp  scheme 
he  once  worked  on  a  Minnesota  merchant. 

"When  I  was  up  in  Saint  Paul  on  my  last  trip," 
said  he,  "a  country  merchant — what  a  'yokel'  he  was ! 
— came  in  to  meet  me.  He  had  written  my  house 
he  wanted  to  see  their  line.  But  when  he  reached  the 
hotel  another  clothing  man  grabbed  him  and  got  him 
to  say  he  would  look  at  his  line  after  he  had  seen 
mine.  When  he  came  into  my  room,  I  could  see 
something  was  wrong.  I  could  not  get  him  to  lay 
out  a  single  garment.  When  a  merchant  begins  to 
put  samples  aside,  you've  got  him  sure.  After  a 
while,  he  said:  'Well,  I  want  to  knock  around  a 
little ;  I'll  be  in  to  see  you  after  dinner.' 

4  'I  am  expecting  you  to  dine  with  me,'  said  I. 
'It's  after  eleven  now;  you  won't  have  time  to  go 
around  any.  You'd  better  wait  until  this  afternoon.'  I 
smelt  a  mouse,  as  there  were  other  clothing  men  in 
town ;  so  I  knew  I  must  hold  him.  But  he  was  hard 
to  entertain.  He  wouldn't  smoke  and  wouldn't  drink 
anything  but  lemonade.  Deliver  me  from  the  mer- 
chant who  is  on  the  water  wagon  or  won't  even  take 
a  cigar !  He's  hard  to  get  next  to.  After  we  finished 
our  lemonade,  I  brought  out  my  family  photographs 
and  kept  him  listening  to  me  tell  how  bright  my 
children  were — until  noon. 

81 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"When  we  finished  luncheon  I  suggested  that  we 
go  up  and  do  our  business  as  I  wanted  to  leave  town 
as  soon  as  I  could.  Then  he  told  me  he  felt  he  ought 
to  look  at  another  line  before  buying  and  that  he  had 
promised  another  man  he  would  look  at  his  line. 

"Had  I  'bucked'  on  that  proposition  it  would  have 
knocked  me  out,  so  I  said :  'To  be  sure  you  should. 
I  certainly  do  not  wish  you  to  buy  my  goods  unless 
they  please  you  better  than  any  you  will  see.  We 
claim  we  are  doing  business  on  a  more  economical 
scale  than  any  concern  in  the  country.  We  know 
this,  and  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  have  you  look 
at  other  goods ;  then  you  will  be  better  satisfied  with 
ours.  I'll  take  pleasure  even  in  introducing  you  to 
several  clothing  men  right  here  in  the  house.' 

"This  line  of  talk  struck  ten.  My  yokel  friend 
said:  'Well,  you  talk  square  and  I  want  to  buy  of 
you.  I  like  a  man  who  thinks  lots  of  his  family,  any-, 
way ;  I've  got  a  big  family  myself — seven  children — 
baby's  just  a  month  old  and  a  fine  boy.  But  I  prom- 
ised my  partner  I'd  look  around  if  I  had  a  chance, 
and  I  think  I  ought  to  keep  my  word  with  him.' 

"Luckily  there  was  another  salesman  from  my  firm 
in  town  and  opened  up  that  same  day  in  the  hotel. 
I  sent  for  him,  never  letting  my  yokel  friend  get 
away  from  me  a  foot.  I  saw  the  other  man,  at 
whose  line  my  friend  wished  to  look,  sitting  in  the  of- 
fice; but  I  knew  he  would  obey  the  rule  of  the  road 

82 


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§ 


Tales  of  the  Road 

and  not  come  up  to  the  merchant  until  I  had  let  him 

go- 

"My  partner  was  a  deuce  of  a  long  time  com- 
ing. I  listened  to  episodes  in  the  lives  of  all  of  those 
seven  children.  I  took  down  notes  on  good  remedies 
for  whooping  cough,  croup,  measles,  and  all  the  ills 
that  flesh  is  heir  to — and  thanked  Heaven  we  had 
struck  that  subject!  Finally  my  partner,  Sam,  came. 
As  he  drew  near  I  gave  him  the  wink,  and,  introduc- 
ing my  friend  to  him,  said:  'Now,  Mr.  Anderson 
is  in  town  to  buy  clothing.  I  have  shown  him  my 
line,  but  he  feels  he  ought  to  look  around.  Maybe  I 
haven't  all  the  patterns  he  wants,  and  if  I  can  get 
only  a  part  of  the  order  there  is  no  one  I'd  rather 
see  get  the  other  than  you.  Whatever  the  result, 
you'll  bring  Mr.  Anderson  to  my  room,  112,  when 
you  get  through.  Show  him  thoroughly.  I'm  in  no 
hurry.' 

"Sam  marched  Anderson  up  to  his  room.  He 
caught  onto  my  game  all  right.  I  knew  he  would 
hold  him  four  hours,  if  necessary,  and  tell  him  all 
about  his  family  history  for  seven  generations. 

"When  Sam  left,  I  went  over  to  the  cigar  stand, 
pulled  out  my  order  book  and  figured  about  long 
enough  to  add  up  a  bill.  I  filled  my  cigar  case  and 
going  over  to  my  competitor,  at  whose  line  Ander- 
son had  promised  to  look,  offered  him  one.  He  had 
made  a  sort  of  'body  snatch'  from  me  anyway  and 

83 


Tales  of  the  Road 

was  ashamed  to  say  anything  about  Anderson,  but  he 
asked:  'How's  business?' 

"  'Coming  in  carriages  today,'  said  I.  'My  city 
customer  was  over  early  this  morning  and,  no  sooner 
had  he  gone  than  a  man  from  the  country  came  in. 
Two  clothing  bills  in  one  day  is  all  right,  isn't  it? 
I  just  turned  my  country  customer  over  to  Sam,  as  he 
has  a  few  new  patterns  in  his  line  I  want  him  to 
show.  Guess  I'll  go  pack  up  shortly.' 

"I  hadn't  told  a  point  blank  lie,  and  my  com- 
petitor had  no  right  to  ask  about  my  affairs,  anyway. 
He  also  went  to  pack  up. 

"I  let  Sam  entertain  Anderson  until  I  knew  my 
competitor  was  out  of  the  way.  Then  I  sent  a  note 
up  to  him.  In  due  time  he  brought  the  merchant 
down  and  soon  excused  himself. 

"  'That's  a  mighty  nice  fellow,'  said  Anderson, 
'but  my !  his  goods  are  dear.  Why,  his  suits  are  two 
to  three  dollars  higher  than  yours.  You'll  certainly 
get  my  bill.  I  told  my  partner  I  believed  your  house 
would  be  all  right  to  buy  from.' 

"I  took  the  order  from  Anderson,  but  I  was  half 
glad  when  I  heard  that  he  had  died  a  few  months 
afterward;  for  if  he  had  lived  he  would  have  been 
sure  to  catch  up  with  me  when  Sam  and  I  were  both 
in  market.  And  then  my  goose  would  have  been 
cooked  for  all  time  with  him,  sure." 

And  so  it  would. 


84 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    HELPING    HAND. 

THE  helping  hand  is  often  held  out  by  the  man 
on  the  road.  Away  from  home  he  is  depen- 
ent  upon  the  good  will  of  others ;  he  fre- 
quently has  done  for  him  an  act  of  kindness;  he  is 
ever  ready  to  do  for  others  a  deed  of  friendship  or 
charity.  Road  life  trains  the  heart  to  gentleness.  It 
carries  with  it  so  many  opportunities  to  help  the 
needy.  Seldom  a  day  passes  that  the  traveling  sales- 
man does  not  loosen  his  purse  strings  for  some  one  in 
want — no,  not  that;  he  carries  his  money  in  his  vest 
pocket.  Doing  one  kind  act  brings  the  doer  such  a 
rich  return  that  he  does  a  second  generous  deed  and 
soon  he  has  the  habit.  The  liberality  of  the  travel- 
ing man  does  not  consist  wholly  of  courting  the 
favor  of  his  merchant  friends — he  is  free  with  them, 
but  mainly  because  it  is  his  nature;  it  is  for  those 
from  whom  he  never  expects  any  return  that  he  does 
the  most. 

A  friend  of  mine  once  told  this  story: 
"It  was  on  the  train  traveling  into  Lincoln,  Ne- 
braska, many  years  ago.     It  was  near  midnight.     It 
was,  I  believe,  my  first  trip  on  the  road.     Just  in 


Tales  of  the  Road 

front  of  me,  in  a  double  seat,  sat  a  poor  woman 
with  three  young  children.  As  the  brakeman  called 
'Lincoln,  the  next  station  1  Ten  minutes  for  lunch  1' 
I  noticed  the  woman  feeling  in  her  pockets  and  look- 
ing all  around.  She  searched  on  the  seats  and  on  the 
floor.  A  companion,  Billie  Collins,  who  sat  beside 
me  leaned  over  and  asked:  'Madam,  have  you  lost 
something  ?' 

"Half  crying,  she  replied,  'I  can't  find  my  purse 
— I  want  to  get  a  cup  of  coffee;  it's  got  my  ticket 
and  money  in  it  and  I'm  going  through  to  Denver.' 

"  'We'll  help  you  look  for  it,'  said  Billy. 

"We  searched  under  the  seats  and  up  and  down 
the  aisle,  but  could  not  find  the  pocket  book.  The 
train  was  drawing  near  Lincoln.  The  poor  woman 
began  to  cry. 

"  'It's  all  the  money  I've  got,  too,'  she  said  piti- 
fully. 'I've  just  lost  my  husband  and  I'm  going  out 
to  my  sister's  in  Colorado.  She  says  I  can  get  work 
out  there.  I  know  I  had  the  ticket.  The  man  took 
it  at  Ottumwa  and  gave  it  back  to  me.  And  I  had 
enough  money  to  buy  me  a  ticket  up  to  Central  City 
where  my  sister  is.  They  won't  put  me  off,  will 
they?  I  know  I  had  the  ticket.  If  I  only  get  to  Den- 
ver, I'll  be  all  right.  I  guess  my  sister  can  send  me 
money  to  come  up  to  her.  I've  got  enough  in  my 
basket  for  us  to  eat  until  she  does.  I  can  do  with- 
out coffee.  They  won't  put  me  off,  wi 11 ?' 

"The  woman  couldn't  finish  the  sentence. 

86 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"One  of  the  boys — Ferguson  was  his  name — who 
sat  across  the  aisle  beside  a  wealthy  looking  old  man, 
came  over.  'Don't  you  worry  a  bit,  Madam/  said 
he.  'You'll  get  through  all  right.  I'll  see  the  con- 
ductor.' The  old  man — a  stockholder  in  a  big  bank, 
I  afterward  learned — merely  twirled  his  thumbs. 

"The  conductor  came  where  we  were  and  said: 
'Yes,  she  had  a  ticket  when  she  got  on  my  division. 
I  punched  it  and  handed  it  back  to  her.  That's  all 
I've  got  to  do  with  the  matter.' 

"  'But,'  spoke  up  Collins,  'this  woman  has  just 
lost  her  husband  and  hasn't  any  money  either.  She's 
going  through  to  Colorado  to  get  work.  Can't  you 
just  say  to  the  next  conductor  that  she  had  a  ticket 
and  get  him  to  take  care  of  her  and  pass  her  on  to  the 
next  division?' 

"  'Guess  she'll  have  to  get  off  at  Lincoln,'  an- 
swered the  conductor  gruffly,  'our  orders  are  to  carry 
no  one  without  transportation.'  All  railroad  men 
have  not  yet  learned  that  using  horse  sense  and  being 
polite  means  promotion. 

"The  poor  woman  began  to  cry  but  my  friend 
Billie,  said :  'Don't  cry,  Madam,  you  shall  go  through 
all  right.  Just  stay  right  where  you  are.' 

"The  conductor  started  to  move  on.  'Now,  you 
just  hold  on  a  minute,  sir,  said  Collins.  'When  this 
train  stops  you  be  right  here — right  here,  I  say — 
and  go  with  me  to  the  superintendent  in  the  depot. 
If  you  don't  you  won't  be  wearing  those  brass  but- 

8? 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tons  much  longer.  It's  your  business,  sir,  to  look 
after  passengers  in  a  fix  like  this  and  I'm  going  to 
make  it  my  business  to  see  that  you  attend  to  yours.' 

uThe  conductor  was  lots  bigger  than  my  friend; 
but  to  a  coward  a  mouse  seems  as  big  as  an  elephant 
and  'brass  buttons'  said :  'All  right,  I'll  be  here ;  but 
it  won't  do  no  good.' 

"As  the  conductor  started  down  the  aisle,  Ferguson 
turned  to  the  woman  and  said :  'You  shall  go  through 
all  right,  Madam;  how  much  money  did  you  have?' 

"  'Three  dollars  and  sixty-five  cents,'  she  answered 
— she  knew  what  she  had  to  a  penny — three  dollars 
and  sixty-five  cents;  And  I'll  bet  she  knew  where 
every  nickel  of  it  came  from !  A  cruel  old  world  this 
to  some  people,  for  a  while ! 

"The  train  had  whistled  for  Lincoln.  Ferguson 
took  off  his  hat,  dropped  in  a  dollar,  and  passed  it 
over  to  Billie  and  me.  Then  he  went  down  the 
aisle,  saying  to  the  boys,  'Poor  woman,  husband  just 
died,  left  three  children,  going  to  hunt  work  in  Colo- 
rado, lost  her  purse  with  ticket  and  all  the  money  she 
had.'  He  came  back  with  nearly  enough  silver  in 
his  hat  to  break  out  the  crown — eighteen  dollars! 

:< 'Will  you  chip  in,  Colonel?'  said  Ferguson  to 
the  old  man  who  had  been  his  traveling  companion? 

"  'No,'  answered  the  old  skinflint,  'I  think  the  rail- 
road company  ought  to  look  after  cases  of  this  kind. 
Ahem!  Ahem!' 

'Well,'  said  Ferguson,  snatching  the  valise  out 

88 


Tales  of  the  Road 

of  his  seat — I  never  saw  a  madder  fellow — 'We've 
enough  without  yours  even  if  you  are  worth  more 
than  all  of  us.  You're  so  stingy  I  won't  even  let  my 
grip  stay  near  you.' 

"When  the  train  stopped  at  Lincoln,  Billie  and 
Ferguson  took  the  conductor  to  the  superintendent's 
office.  They  sent  me  to  the  lunch  counter.  I  got 
back  first  with  a  cup  of  coffee  for  the  mother  and  a 
bag  for  the  children.  But  pretty  soon  in  bolted  Billy 
and  Ferguson.  Billie  handed  the  woman  a  pass  to 
Denver,  and  Ferguson  dumped  the  eighteen  dollars 
into  her  lap. 

"  'Oh,  that's  too  much !  I'll  take  just  three  dollars 
and  give  me  your  name  so  that  I  can  send  that  back,' 
said  the  woman,  happier  than  any  one  I  ever  saw. 

"But  we  all  rushed  away  quickly,  Billy  saying: 
'Oh,  never  mind  our  names,  madam.  Buy  something 
for  the  children;  Good-bye,  God  bless  you !'  ' 

Not  the  poor  widow,  alone,  but  even  the  big,  able- 
bodied,  hungry  tramp  comes  in  often  to  share  the 
drummer's  generosity.  A  friend  once  told  me  of  a 
good  turn  he  did  for  a  "Weary  Willie"  in  Butte. 

Now  if  there  is  any  place  on  earth  where  a  man 
is  justified  in  being  mean,  it  is  in  Butte.  It  is  a  min- 
ing camp.  It  rests  upon  bleak,  barren  hills ;  the  sul- 
phuric fumes,  arising  from  roasting  ores,  have  long 
since  killed  out  all  vegetation.  It  has  not  even  a 
sprig  of  grass.  This  smoke,  also  laden  with  arsenic, 
sometimes  hovers  over  Butte  like  a  London  fog. 


Tales  of  the  Road 

More  wealth  is  every  year  dug  out  of  the  earth  in 
Butte,  and  more  money  is  squandered  there  by  more 
different  kinds  of  people,  than  in  any  place  of  its  size 
on  earth.  The  dictionary  needs  one  adjective  which 
should  qualify  Butte  and  no  other  place.  Many  a 
time  while  there  I've  expected  to  see  Satan  rise  up 
out  of  a  hole.  Whenever  I  start  to  leave  I  feel  I  am 
going  away  from  the  domain  of  the  devil. 

uOne  morning  I  went  down  to  the  depot  before 
five  o'clock,"  said  my  friend.  "I  was  to  take  a  be- 
lated train.  It  was  below  zero,  yet  I  paced  up  and 
down  the  platform  outside  breathing  the  sulphur 
smoke.  I  was  anxious  to  catch  sight  of  the  train. 
Through  the  bluish  haze,  the  lamp  in  the  depot  cast 
a  light  upon  a  man  standing  near  the  track.  I  went 
over  to  him,  supposing  he  was  a  fellow  traveling 
man.  But  he  was  only  a  tramp  who  had  been  fired 
out  of  the  waiting  room.  I  wore  a  warm  chinchilla, 
but  it  made  my  teeth  chatter  to  see  this  shivering 
'hobo' — his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  last  sum- 
mer's light  weight  pinned  close  around  his  throat. 

"  'Fine  morning,  old  man,'  said  I. 

"  'Maybe  you  t'ink  so,  Major,'  replied  the  hobo, 
'but  you  stan'  out  in  de  breeze  long's  I  have  in 
Fourt'  of  Chuly  togs  an'  you'll  have  to  have  a  long 
pipe  dream  to  t'ink  it's  a  fine  mornin'.  Say,  pard, 
cup  o'  coffee  an'  a  sinker  wouldn't  go  bad.' 

"I  took  the  tramp  to  the  lunch  counter.     I  was 

90 


Tales  of  the  Road 

hungry  myself  and  told  the  waiter  to  give  him  what 
he  wanted. 

"  'Cup  o'  coffee  an'  a  sand'ich — t'ick  slab  o'  dc 
pig,  Cap'n,  please,'  said  my  hobo  friend. 

"I  saw  some  strawberries  behind  the  counter  and 
I  said  to  the  waiter:  Just  start  us  both  in  on  straw- 
berries and  cream,  then  let  us  have  coffee  and  some 
of  that  fried  chicken.' 

"  'Sport,  you  are  in  on  this,'  said  I  to  the  tramp. 

"He  unpinned  his  coat  and  looked  with  longing 
eyes  on  the  waiter  as  he  pulled  the  caps  off  the  ber- 
ries ;  he  never  said  a  word,  merely  swallowing  the  se- 
cretion from  his  glands.  When  he  had  gulped  his 
berries,  I  told  the  waiter  to  give  him  some  more. 

"  'Ever  hungry,  Major?'  said  the  hobo.  'Dat's 
kind  a  feather  weight  for  my  ap'tite.  Let  me  have 
a  ham  sand'ich  'stead. 

"  'No,  go  on,  you  shall  have  a  good  square  meal. 
Here,  take  some  more  berries  and  have  this  fried 
chicken,'  I  answered,  shoving  over  another  bowl  of 
fruit  and  a  big  dish  with  a  half  a  dozen  cooked 
chickens  on  it.  'Help  yourself  like  it  all  belonged  to 
you.' 

"The  hobo  ate  two  halves  of  chicken,  drained  his 
cup  of  coffee  and  started  to  get  down  from  his  stool. 
But  he  cast  a  hungry  look  at  the  dish  of  chicken. 

"  'Have  some  more,  old  man,'  said  I. 

"  'It's  been  s'long  since  I  had  a  good  square 
that  I  could  stan'  a  little  more,  Major;  but  let  me  go 

91 


Tales  of  the  Road 

up  against  a  ham  sancTich — it's  got  a  longer  reach.' 

"  'No,  have  chicken — all  the  chicken  you  want — 
and  some  more  coffee,'  said  I. 

"Eat!  How  that  fellow  did  go  for  it — five  pieces 
of  chicken !  I'd  rather  see  him  repeat  that  perform- 
ance than  go  to  a  minstrel  show.  He  slid  off  his 
stool  again,  saying:  'Major,  I  guess  I'm  all  in. 
T'anks.' 

"  'Oh,  no;  have  some  pie,'  I  said. 

"  'Well,'  he  replied,  'Major,  's  you  shift  the  deck, 
guess  I  will  play  one  more  frame.' 

"  'Gash  o'  apple,'  said  Weary  to  the  waiter. 

"When  I  insisted  upon  his  having  a  third  piece 
of  pie,  the  hobo  said:  'No,  Major,  t'anks,  I  got  to 
ring  off  or  I'll  break  de  bank.' 

"He,  for  once,  had  enough.  I  gave  him  a  cigar. 
He  sat  down  to  smoke — contented,  I  thought.  I  paid 
the  bill;  things  are  high  in  Montana,  you  know — his 
part  was  $2.85.  My  hobo  friend  saw  $3.55  rung 
up  on  the  cash  register.  Then  I  went  over  and  sat 
down  beside  him. 

"  'Feeling  good?'  said  I. 

"  'Yep,  but  chee !  Dat  feed,  spread  out,  would 
a  lasted  me  clean  to  Sain'  Paul.'  ' 

Although  the  traveling  man  will  feed  the  hungry 
tramp  on  early  strawberries  and  fried  chicken  when 
ham  sandwiches  straight  would  touch  the  spot  better, 
all  of  his  generosity  is  not  for  fun.  A  drug  sales- 
man told  me  this  experience: 

92 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"A  few  years  ago/'  said  he  "I  was  over  in  one 
of  the  towns  I  make  in  Oregon.  I  reached  there  on 
Saturday  evening.  I  went  to  my  customer's  store. 
Just  before  he  closed  he  said  to  me:  Til  take  you 
to-night  to  hear  some  good  music.' 

"  Where  is  it?5  said  I.     Til  be  glad  to  go  along.' 

"  'It's  down  the  street  a  couple  of  blocks;  it's  a 
kind  of  garden.  A  family  runs  it.  The  old  man 
serves  drinks  and  the  rest  of  the  family — his  wife 
and  three  daughters — play,  to  draw  the  crowd.  I 
want  you  to  hear  the  oldest  girl  play  the  violin.' 

"Now,  traveling  men  are  ready  any  time  to  go 
anywhere.  Sometimes  they  fly  around  the  arc  light, 
but  they  can  buzz  close  and  not  get  their  wings 
scorched.  They  must  keep  their  heads  clear  and 
they  do,  nowadays,  you  know.  It's  not  as  it  was  in 
the  old  days  when  the  man  who  could  tell  the  most 
yarns  sold  the  most  goods;  the  old  fashioned  travel- 
ing man  is  as  much  behind  the  times  as  a  bobtailed 
street  car.  Well,  of  course,  I  told  my  friend  Jerry 
that  I'd  go  along.  I  should  have  put  in  my  time 
working  on  new  trade,  but  he  was  one  of  the  best 
fellows  in  the  world  and  one  of  my  best  friends. 
Yet  he  would  not  give  me  much  of  his  business;  we 
were  too  well  acquainted. 

"When  we  went  to  the  garden — Jerry,  his  part- 
ner and  myself — we  sat  up  front.  We  could  look 
over  the  crowd.  It  was  a  place  for  men  only.  The 
dozen  tables  were  nearly  all  full,  most  of  the  seats 

93 


Tales  of  the  Road 

being  occupied  by  men  from  the  mines — some  of 
them  wearing  blue  flannel  shirts.  But  the  crowd  was 
orderly.  The  music  made  them  so.  The  oldest 
daughter  was  only  seventeen,  but  she  looked  twenty- 
three.  She  showed  that  she'd  had  enough  experience 
in  her  life,  though,  to  be  gray.  There  was  a  tortured 
soul  behind  her  music.  Even  when  she  played  a  rag- 
time tune  she  would  repeat  the  same  notes  slowly  and 
get  a  chord  out  of  them  that  went  straight  to  the 
heart.  The  men  all  bought  rounds  of  drinks  freely 
between  the  numbers,  but  they  let  them  remain  un- 
tasted ;  they  drank,  rather,  the  music. 

"We  listened  for  two  hours.  The  music  suited 
my  mood.  I  was  a  long  way  from  home.  Most  of 
the  men  there  felt  as  I  did.  Twelve  o'clock  came, 
yet  no  one  had  left  the  garden.  More  had  come. 
Many  stood.  All  were  waiting  for  the  final  number, 
which  was  the  same  every  night,  'Home,  Sweet 
Home.' 

"There  is  something  more  enchanting  about  this 
air  than  any  other  in  the  world.  Perhaps  this  is  be- 
cause it  carries  one  back  when  he  once  has  'passed  its 
portals'  to  his  'Childhood's  Joyland — Little  Girl  and 
Boyland.'  It  reminds  him  of  his  own  happy  young 
days  or  else  recalls  the  little  ones  at  home  at  play 
with  their  toys.  I  know  I  thought  of  my  own  dear 
little  tots  when  I  heard  the  strain.  How  that  girl 
did  play  the  splendid  old  melody !  I  closed  my  eyes. 
The  garden  became  a  mountain  stream,  the  tones  of 

94 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  violin  its  beautiful  ripples — ripples  which  flowed 
right  on  even  when  the  sound  had  ceased. 

"  'Home,  Sweet  Home !'  I  thought  of  mine.  I 
thought  of  the  girPs — a  beer  garden ! 

"  'Boys/  said  I  to  Jerry  and  his  partner,  'I  am 
going  up  to  shake  hands  with  that  girl;  I  owre  her 
a  whole  lot.  She's  a  genius.'  I  went.  And  I  thanked 
her,  too,  and  told  her  how  well  she  had  played  and 
how  happy  she  had  made  me. 

"  Tm  glad  somebody  can  be  happy,'  she  answered, 
drooping  her  big,  blue  eyes. 

'  'But  aren't  you  happy  in  your  music?'  I  asked. 

"  'Yes,'  she  replied  in  such  a  sad  way  that  it  meant 
a  million  nos. 

"When  I  went  back  to  my  friends  they  told  me 
the  girl's  father  was  not  of  much  account  or  other- 
wise he  would  send  her  oft  to  a  good  teacher. 

"  'Now,  that's  going  to  take  only  a  few  hundred 
dollars,'  said  I.  'You  are  here  on  the  spot  and  there 
surely  ought  to  be  enough  money  in  the  town  to  edu- 
cate this  girl.  I  can't  stay  here  to  do  this  thing,  but 
you  can  put  me  down  for  fifty.' 

"Well,  sir,  do  you  know  the  people  in  the  town 
did  help  that  girl  along.  When  the  women  heard 
what  a  traveling  man  was  willing  to  do,  they  no 
longer  barred  her  out  because,  for  bread,  she  played 
a  violin  in  a  beer  garden,  but  they  opened  their  doors 
to  her  and  helped  her  along.  The  girl  got  a  music 

95 


Tales  of  the  Road 

class  and  with  some  assistance  went  to  a  conservatory 
of  music  in  Boston  where  she  is  studying  today." 

Traveling  men  are  not  angels;  yet  in  their  black 
wings  are  stuck  more  white  feathers  than  they  are 
given  credit  for — this  is  because  some  of  the  feathers 
grow  on  the  under  side  of  their  wings.  Much  of 
evil,  anyway,  like  good,  is  in  the  thinking.  It  is  wrong 
to  say  a  fruit  is  sour  until  you  taste  it;  is  it  right  to 
condemn  the  drummer  before  you  know  him? 

Days — and  nights,  too — of  hard  work  often  come 
together  in  the  life  of  the  road  man.  Then  comes  one 
day  when  he  rides  many  hours,  perhaps  twenty-four, 
on  the  train.  He  needs  to  forget  his  business ;  he  does. 
Less  frequently,  I  wager,  than  university  students, 
yet  sometimes  the  drummer  will  try  his  hand  at  a 
moderate  limit  in  the  great  American  game. 

A  year  or  more  ago  a  party  of  four  commercial 
travelers  were  making  the  trip  from  Portland  to  San 
Francisco,  a  ride  of  thirty-six  hours — two  nights  and 
one  day.  They  occupied  the  drawing  room.  After 
breakfast,  on  the  day  of  the  journey,  one  of  the 
boys  proposed  a  game  of  ten  cent  limit  "draw." 
They  all  took  part.  There  is  something  in  the  game 
of  poker  that  will  keep  one's  eyes  open  longer  than 
will  the  fear  of  death,  so  the  four  kept  on  playing 
until  time  for  luncheon.  About  one  o'clock  the  train 
stopped  for  half  an  hour  at  a  town  in  Southern  Ore- 
gon. The  party  went  out  to  take  a  stretch.  Instead 
of  going  into  the  dining  room  they  bought,  at  the 


Tales  of  the  Road 

lunch  counter,  some  sandwiches,  hard  boiled  eggs, 
doughnuts  and  pies  and  put  them  in  their  compart- 
ment. On  the  platform  an  old  man  had  cider  for 
sale;  they  bought  some  of  that.  Several  youngsters 
sold  strawberries  and  cherries.  The  boys  also  bought 
some  of  these.  In  fact,  they  found  enough  for  a 
wholesome,  appetizing  spread. 

The  train  was  delayed  longer  than  usual.  The 
boys,  tired  of  walking,  came  back  to  their  quarters. 
They  asked  me  to  have  some  lunch  with  them.  Just 
as  one  of  the  party  opened  a  bottle  of  cider  a  little, 
barefoot,  crippled  boy,  carrying  his  crutch  under  one 
arm  and  a  basket  half  full  of  strawberries  under  the 
other,  passed  beneath  the  window  cf  their  drawing 
room. 

"Strawberries.  Nice  fresh  strawberries,  misters 
— only  a  dime  a  box,"  called  out  the  boy.  "Three 
for  a  quarter  if  you'll  take  that  many." 

There  he  was,  the  youthful  drummer,  doing  in  his 
boyish  way  just  what  we  were — making  a  living,  and 
supporting  somebody,  too,  by  finding  his  customer 
and  then  selling  him.  He  was  bright,  clean  and 
active;  but  sadly  crippled. 

"Let's  buy  him  out,"  said  the  youngest  of  our 
party — I  was  now  one  of  them. 

"No,  let's  make  a  jackpot,  the  winner  to  give  all 
the  winnings  to  the  boy  for  his  berries,"  spoke  up 
the  oldest. 

The  pot  was  opened  on  the  first  hand.  The  limit 

97 


Tales  of  the  Road 

had  been  ten  cents,  hut  the  opener  said  'Til  'crack' 
it  for  fifty  cents,  if  all  are  agreed." 

Every  man  stayed  in — for  the  boy!  Strangely 
enough  four  of  us  caught  on  the  draw. 

"Bet  fifty  cents,"  said  the  opener. 

"Call  your  fifty,"  said  numbers  two  and  three, 
dropping  in  their  chips. 

"Raise- it  fifty,"  spoke  up  number  four. 

The  other  three  "saw  the  raise." 

"Three  Jacks,"  said  the  opener. 

"Beats  me,"  said  number  two. 

"Three  queens  here,"  said  number  three. 

"Bobtail,"  spoke  up  number  four. 

"Makes  no  difference  what  you  have,"  broke  in 
number  three.  "I've  the  top  hand,  but  the  whole 
pot  belongs  to  the  boy.  The  low  hand,  though, 
shall  go  out  and  get  the  berries." 

As  the  train  pulled  out,  the  little  barefoot  drum- 
mer with  $6.50  hobbled  across  the  muddy  street,  the 
proudest  boy  in  all  Oregon ;  but  he  was  not  so  happy 
as  were  his  five  big  brothers  in  the  receding  car. 

Brethren,  did  I  say.  Yes,  Brethren !  To  the  man 
on  the  road,  every  one  he  meets  is  his  brother — no 
more,  no  less.  He  feels  that  he  is  as  good  as  the 
governor,  that  he  is  no  better  than  the  boy  who 
shines  his  shoes.  The  traveling  man,  if  he  succeeds, 
soon  becomes  a  member  of  the  Great  Fraternity — 
the  Brotherhood  of  Man.  The  ensign  of  this  order 
is  the  Helping  Hand. 

98 


Tales  of  the  Road 

I  once  overheard  one  of  the  boys  tell  how  he  had 
helped  an  old  Frenchman. 

"I  was  down  in  Southern  Idaho  last  trip,"  said  he. 
"While  waiting  at  the  station  for  a  train  to  go  up 
to  Hailey,  an  old  man  came  to  the  ticket  window 
and  asked  how  much  the  fare  was  to  Butte.  The 
agent  told  him  the  amount — considerably  more  than 
ten  dollars. 

"  'Mon  Dieul  Is  it  so  far  as  that?'  said  the  old 
man.  'Eh  bien!  (very  well)  I  must  find  some  work.' 

"But  he  was  a  chipper  old  fellow.  I  had  noticed 
him  that  morning  offering  to  run  a  foot  race  with  the 
boys.  He  wasn't  worried  a  bit  when  the  agent  told 
him  how  much  the  fare  to  Butte  was.  He  was  really 
comical,  merely  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  smiling 
when  he  said:  'Very  well,  I  must  find  some  work.' 
Cares  lighten  care. 

"The  old  man,  leaving  the  ticket  window,  sat  down 
on  a  bench,  made  the  sign  of  a  cross  and  took  out  a 
prayer  book.  When  he  had  finished  reading  I  went 
over  and  sat  beside  him.  I  talked  with  him.  He  was 
3ne  of  Nature's  noblemen  without  a  title.  He  was 
a  French  Canadian.  He  came  to  Montana  early  in 
the  sixties  and  worked  in  the  mines.  Wages  were 
high,  but  he  married  and  his  wife  became  an  in- 
valid; doctors  and  medicines  took  nearly  all  of  his 
money.  He  struggled  on  for  over  thirty  years,  tak- 
ing money  out  of  the  ground  and  putting  it  into  pill 
boxes.  Finally  he  was  advised  to  take  his  wife  to  a 

99 


Tales  of  the  Road 

lower  altitude.  He  moved  to  the  coast  and  settled 
in  the  Willamette  Valley,  in  Oregon.  His  wife  be- 
came better  at  first;  then  she  grew  sick  again.  More 
medicine ! 

"Well,  sir,  do  you  know  that  old  man — over  sev- 
enty years  of  age — was  working  his  way  back  to 
Butte  to  hunt  work  in  the  mines  again.  I  spoke 
French  to  him  and  asked  him  how  much  money  he 
had.  'Not  much,'  said  he — and  he  took  out  his 
purse.  How  much  do  you  suppose  the  old  man  had 
in  it?  Just  thirty-five  cents!  I  had  just  spent  half 
a  dollar  for  cigars  and  tossed  them  around.  To  see 
that  old  man,  separated  from  his  wife,  having  to  hunt 
for  work  to  get  money  so  he  could  go  where  he  could 
hunt  more  work  that  he  might  only  buy  medicine 
for  a  sick  old  woman  and  with  just  three  dimes  and 
a  nickel  in  his  purse — was  too  much  for  me !  I  said 
to  myself:  Til  cut  out  smoking  for  two  days  and 
give  what  I  would  spend  to  the  old  man.' 

"I  put  a  pair  of  silver  dollars  into  the  old  man's 
purse  to  keep  company  with  his  three  dimes  and  one 
nickel.  It  made  them  look  like  orphans  that  had 
found  a  home.  'Mon  Dieu!  Monsieur,  vous  etes  un 
ange  du  del.  Merci.  Merci.9  ( My  God,  sir,  you  are 
an  angel  from  Heaven.  Thank  you.  Thank  you.) 
said  the  old  man.  'But  you  must  give  me  your  ad- 
dress and  let  me  send  back  the  money !' 

I  asked  my  old  friend  to  give  me  his  name  and 
told  him  that  I  would  send  him  my  address  to  Butte  so 

100 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  would  be  sure  to  get  it;  that  he  might  lose  it  if 
he  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

uHe  told  me  his  name.  I  gave  him  a  note  to  the 
superintendent  at  Pocatello,  asking  him  to  pass  the 
old  Frenchman  to  Butte.  We  talked  until  my  train 
started.  Every  few  sentences,  the  old  man  would 
say:  Que  Dieu  vous  benisse,  mon  enfant!'  (May 
God  bless  you,  my  boy!) 

"As  I  stood  on  the  back  end  of  my  train,  pulling 
away  from  the  station,  the  old  man  looked  at  me  say- 
ing: 

"  'Adieu  I  Adieu  P  Then,  looking  up  into  the  sky, 
he  made  a  sign  of  the  cross  and  said:  'Que  Dieu  vous 
protege,  mon  enfant!'  (May  God  protect  you,  my 
boy!) 

"That  blessing  was  worth  a  copper  mine." 


101 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  TO  GET  ON  THE  ROAD. 

SINCE  starting  on  the  road  many  have  asked  me: 
"How  can  I  get  a  job  on  the  road?" 

Young  men  and  old  men  have  asked  me  this 
— clerks,  stock  boys,  merchants  and  students.  Even 
wives  have  asked  me  how  to  find  places  for  their 
husbands. 

Let's  clear  the  ground  of  dead  timber.  Old  men 
of  any  sort  and  young  men  who  haven't  fire  in  their 
eyes  and  ginger  in  their  feet  need  not  apply.  The 
uOld  Man,"  who  sits  in  the  head  office  sizes  up  the 
man  who  wishes  to  go  out  on  the  road  and  spend  a 
whole  lot  of  the  firm's  money  for  traveling  expenses 
with  a  great  deal  more  care  than  the  dean  of  a  col- 
lege measures  '-the  yduth  who  comes  to  enter  school. 
The  -dean  thinks :  "Well,  maybe  we  can  make  some- 
thing'out  of  this  boy,  dull  as  he  is.  We'll  try."  But 
the  business  man  says:  uThat  fellow  is  no  good.  He 
can't  sell  goods.  What's  the  use  of  wasting  money 
on  him  and  covering  a  valuable  territory  with  a 
dummy?" 

On  the  other  hand,  the  heads  of  wholesale  houses 
are  ever  on  the  watch  for  bright  young  men.  This  is 

102 


Tales  of  the  Road 

no  stale  preachment,  but  a  live  fact!  There  are 
hundreds  of  road  positions  open  in  every  city  in 
America.  Almost  any  large  firm  would  put  on  ten 
first  class  men  to-morrow,  but  they  can't  find  the  men. 

The  "stock"  is  the  best  training  school  for  the 
road — the  stock  boy  is  the  drummer  student.  Once 
in  a  while  an  old  merchant,  tiring  of  the  routine  of 
the  retail  business,  may  get  a  "commission  job" — 
that  is,  he  may  find  a  position  to  travel  for  some 
firm,  usually  a  "snide  outfit" — if  he  will  agree  to 
pay  his  own  traveling  expenses  and  accept  for  his 
salary  a  percentage  of  his  sales  shipped.  Beware, 
my  friend,  of  the  "commission  job !"  Reliable  firms 
seldom  care  to  put  out  a  man  who  does  not  "look 
good  enough"  to  justify  them  in  at  least  guaranteeing 
him  a  salary  he  can  live  on.  They  know  that  if  a  man 
feels  he  is  going  to  live  and  not  lag  behind,  he  will 
work  better.  The  commission  salesman  is  afraid  to 
spend  his  own  money ;  yet,  were  he  to  have  the  firm's 
money  to  spend,  many  a  man  who  fails  would  suc- 
ceed. Once  in  a  while  a  retail  clerk  may  get  a  place 
on  the  road,  but  the  "Old  Man"  does  not  look  on 
the  clerk  with  favor.  The  clerk  has  had  things  come 
his  way  too  easy.  His  customers  come  to  him;  the 
man  on  the  road  must  go  after  his  customers.  It  is 
the  stock  boy  who  has  the  best  show  to  get  on  the 
road. 

The  stock  boy  learns  his  business  from  the  ground 
up  or  better,  as  the  Germans  say,  "from  the  house 

103 


Tales  of  the  Road 

out."  If  one  young  man  cannot  become  a  surgeon 
without  going  through  the  dissecting  room,  then  an- 
other cannot  become  a  successful  drummer  without 
having  worked  in  stock.  The  merchant,  who  oft- 
times  deals  in  many  lines,  wishes  to  buy  his  goods 
from  the  man  who  knows  his  business;  and  unless 
a  man  knows  his  business  he  would  better  never 
start  on  the  road. 

But,  my  dear  boy,  to  merely  know  your  business 
is  not  all.  You  may  know  that  this  razor  is  worth 
$12.00  a  dozen  and  that  one  $13.50;  that  this 
handle  is  bone  and  that  one  celluloid;  but  that  won't 
get  you  on  the  road.  You  must  have  a  good  front. 
I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  you  must  have  just  ex- 
actly 990  hairs  on  each  side  of  the  "part"  on  your 
head;  that  your  shoes  must  be  shined,  your  trousers 
creased,  your  collar  clean  and  your  necktie  just  so. 
Neatness  is  a  "without-which-not ;"  but  there  must  be 
more — a  boy  must  work  hard,  be  polite,  honest,  full 
of  force,  bright,  quick,  frank,  good-natured.  The 
"Old  Man"  may  keep  to  sweep  the  floor  a  lazy, 
shiftless,  stupid,  silly,  grouchy  "stiff";  but  when  he 
wants  some  one  to  go  on  the  road  he  looks  for  a  live 
manly  man.  When  you  get  in  stock  it  is  up  to  you; 
for  eyes  are  on  you,  eyes  just  as  anxious  to  see  your 
good  qualities  as  you  are  to  show  them,  eyes  that  are 
trying  to  see  you  make  good. 

How  can  I  get  "in  stock?"  That's  easy.  If  you 
are  in  the  city  you  are  on  the  spot;  if  you  are  in, 

104 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  country,  "hyke"  for  the  city!  See  that  you 
haven't  any  cigarette  stains  on  your  fingers  or  tobac- 
co in  the  corners  of  your  mouth.  Go  into  the  whole- 
sale houses,  from  door  to  door — until  you  find  a  job. 
If  you  are  going  to  let  a  few  or  a  hundred  turn-downs 
dishearten  you,  you'd  better  stay  at  home;  for  when 
you  get  on  the  road,  turn-downs  are  what  you  must 
go  up  against  every  day.  If  you  know  some  travel- 
ing man,  or  merchant,  or  manager,  or  stock  boy, 
maybe  he  can  get  you  a  ujob  in  stock.''  But  remem- 
ber one  thing:  When  you  get  there,  you  must  de- 
pend upon  Number  One.  Your  recommendation  is 
worth  nothing  to  you  from  that  hour  on.  This  is  the 
time  when  the  good  front  gets  in  its  work. 

The  city  is  a  strong  current,  my  boy,  in  which 
there  are  many  whirlpools  ready  to  suck  you  under; 
yet  if  you  are  a  good  swimmer  you  can  splash  along 
here  faster  than  anywhere  else.  A  successful  travel- 
ing man,  once  told  me  how  he  got  on  the  road. 

"I  was  raised  in  a  little  town  in  Tennessee,"  said 
he.  "A  traveling  man  whose  home  was  in  my  na- 
tive town  took  me  along  with  him,  one  day,  when  he 
made  a  team  trip  to  Bucksville,  an  inland  country 
town,  fourteen  miles  away.  That  was  a  great  trip  for 
me — fourteen  miles,  and  staying  over  night  in  a 
hotel! — the  first  time  I  had  ever  done  so  in  my  life. 
And  for  the  first  time  I  knew  how  it  felt  to  have  a 
strange  landlord  call  me  umister."  It  was  on  that 

105 


Tales  of  the  Road 

trip  that  I  caught  the  fever  for  travel,  and  that  trip 
put  me  on  the  road! 

uWhen,  the  next  morning  after  reaching  Bucks- 
ville,  my  drummer  friend  had  finished  business  and 
packed  his  trunks,  he  said  to  me :  'Billie,  I  guess  you 
may  go  and  get  the  team  ready.'  I  answered  him, 
saying,  'The  team  is  ready  and  backed  up,  sir,  for 
the  trunks.'  In  three  minutes  the  trunks  were  loaded 
in  and  we  were  off. 

"  'Billie,'  said  my  friend — I  shall  never  forget  it 
for  it  was  the  dawn  of  hope  for  me,  as  I  had  never 
had  any  idea  what  I  was  going  to  do  in  after  life ! 
— 'I'll  tell  you,  Billie,  you  would  make  a  good  drum- 
mer, suh.  When  we  drove  down  yesterday  you  count- 
ed how  many  more  horseflies  lit  on  the  bay  mare 
than  on  the  white  horse.  You  reasoned  out  that  the 
flies  lit  on  the  bay  because  the  fly  and  the  mare  were 
about  the  same  color  and  that  the  fly  was  not  so 
liable  to  be  seen  and  killed  as  if  it  had  lit  on  the 
white.  That  showed  me  you  notice  things  and  rea- 
son about  them.  To  be  a  good  traveling  man  you 
must  make  a  business  of  noticing  things  and  thinking 
about  them.  Real  good  hoss  sense  is  a  rare  thing. 
Then,  this  mo'nin',  when  I  said  "Get  the  team 
ready,"  you  said  "It  is  ready,  siih,"  and  showed 
me  that  you  look  ahead,  see  what  ought  to  be  done 
and  do  it  without  being  told.  Generally  any  fool 
can  do  what  he  is  told  to;  but  it  takes  a  man  of 
sense  to  find  things  to  do,  and  if  he  has  the  grit  to 

106 


Tales  of  the  Road 

do  them  he  will  get  along.  I'm  just  going  to  see  if 
I  can't  get  a  place  in  our  house  for  you,  Billie.  YouVe 
got  the  stuff  in  you  to  make  a  successful  drummer, 
suh.  Yes,  suh  I  Hoss  sense  and  grit,  suh — hoss 
sense  and  grit!' 

"Sure  enough  the  next  Christmas  night — I  wasn't 
then  sixteen — I  struck  out  for  the  city  in  company 
with  my  older  traveling  man  friend.  He  had  got 
me  a  place  in  his  house.  The  night  I  left,  my  mother 
said  to  me:  'Son,  I've  tried  to  raise  you  right.  I'll 
soon  find  out  if  I  have.  I  believe  I  have  and  that 
you  will  get  along.'  My  father  then  gave  me  the 
only  word  of  advice  he  ever  gave  me  in  his  life: 
'Son,  be  polite,'  said  he;  'this  will  cost  you  nothing 
and  be  worth  lots.' 

"Well,  sir,  with  those  words  ringing  in  my  ears: 
'Use  hoss  sense;  have  grit;'  'Be  polite;'  'Son,  I've 
tried  to  raise  you  right,'  I  struck  out  for  the  city.  As 
I  think  it  over  now,  the  thing  that  did  me  the  most 
good  was  my  father's  advice:  'Son,  be  polite,  this 
will  cost  you  nothing  and  be  worth  lots.'  The  boy 
can  never  hope  to  be  much  if  he  does  not  know  that 
he  should  tip  his  hat  to  a  lady,  give  his  seat  to  a 
gray-haired  man,  or  carry  a  bundle  for  an  old 
woman. 

"How  strange  it  was  for  me  that  night,  to  sleep 
with  my  friend  in  a  bed  on  wheels!  How  strange, 
the  next  morning,  to  wash  in  a  bowl  on  wheels !  and 
to  look  out  of  the  Pullman  windows  as  I  wiped  my 

107 


Tales  of  the  Road 

face !  I  was  living  then  I  And  when  I  reached  the 
city!  Such  a  bustle  I've  never  seen  since.  As  I 
walked  up  a  narrow  street  from  the  depot,  I  fell  on 
the  slippery  sidewalk.  'Better  get  some  ashes  on 
your  feet'  said  my  friend.  And,  indeed,  I  did  need 
to  keep  ashes  on  my  feet  for  a  long  time.  I  had  be- 
fore me  a  longer  and  more  slippery  sidewalk  than  I 
then  dreamed  of.  Every  boy  has  who  goes  to  the 
city.  But,  when  he  gets  his  sled  to  the  top,  he's  in 
for  a  long,  smooth  slide  1 

"I  started  in  to  work  for  twenty  dollars  a  month — 
not  five  dollars  a  week !  I  found  there  was  a  whole  lot 
of  difference,  especially  when  I  had  to  pay  $4.50  a 
week  for  board  and  forty  cents  for  laundry.  I  was 
too  proud  to  send  home  for  money  and  too  poor  to 
spend  it  out  of  my  own  purse.  Good  training  this ! 
One  winter's  day  a  friend  told  me  there  was  skating 
in  the  park.  I  asked  a  gentleman  where  the  park 
was.  'Go  three  blocks  and  take  the  car  going  south,' 
said  he.  I  went  three  blocks  and  when  the  car  came 
along  I  followed  it,  for  I  could  not  afford  a  single 
nickel  for  car  fare.  What  a  fortune  I  had  when, 
during  busy  season,  I  could  work  nights  and  get 
fifty  cents  extra  for  supper  money!  None  of  this 
did  I  spend,  as  my  boarding  house  wasn't  far  away. 
The  only  money  that  I  spent  in  a  whole  year  was 
one  dollar  for  a  library  ticket — the  best  dollar  I 
ever  spent  in  my  life!  Good  books,  and  there  are 
plenty  of  them  free  in  all  cities,  are  the  best  things 

108 


Tales  of  the  Road 

in  the  world,  anyway,  to  keep  a  boy  out  of  devil- 
ment. The  boy  who  will  put  into  his  head  what  he 
will  get  out  of  good  books  will  win  out  over  the  one 
who  gets  his  clothes  full  of  chalk  from  billiard  cues, 
One  day  the  "Old  Gentleman"  saw  me  at  the  noon 
hour  as  I  was  going  to  the  library  with  a  book  under 
my  arm.  'So  you  read  nights,  do  you,  Billie,'  said 
he.  'Well,  you  keep  it  up  and  you  will  get  ahead  of 
the  boys  who  don't.' 

"Work?  I  wrorked  like  a  beaver.  I  was  due  at 
seven  in  the  morning.  I  was  always  there  several 
minutes  before  seven.  One  morning  the  old  gen- 
tleman came  in  real  early  and  found  me  at  work, 
while  a  couple  of  the  other  boys  were  reading  the 
papers  and  waiting  for  the  seventh  strike,  and  be- 
fore most  of  the  stock  boys  had  shown  up.  At 
noon  I  would  wrap  bundles,  take  a  blacking  pot  and 
mark  cases,  run  the  elevator  or  do  anything,  to 
"keep  moving."  I  did  not  know  that  an  eye  was  on 
me  all  the  time;  but  there  was.  At  the  end  of  a 
year  the  old  gentleman  called  me  into  the  office  and 
said:  'Billie,  you've  done  more  this  year  than  we 
have  paid  you  for;  here's  a  check  for' sixty  dollars, 
five  dollars  a  month  back  pay.  Your  salary  will  be 
$25.00  a  month  next  year.  You  may  also  have  a 
week's  vacation. 

"How  big  that  sixty  was!  Rockefeller  hasn't  as 
much  to-day  as  I  had  then.  What  he  has  doesn't 
make  him  happy;  he  wants  more.  I  had  enough. 

109 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Why,  I  was  able  to  buy  a  new  rig-out.  I  can  see 
that  plaid  suit  of  clothes  to  this  day !  I  could  afford 
to  go  home  looking  slick,  to  visit  my  mother  and 
father;  I  could  buy  a  present  for  my  sweetheart,  too. 
The  good  Lord  somehow  very  wisely  puts  'notions' 
into  a  young  man's  head  about  the  time  he  begins  to 
get  on  in  the  world,  and  the  best  thing  on  earth  for 
him  when  he  is  away  from  home  is  to  have  some 
girl  away  back  where  he  came  from  think  a  whole 
lot  of  him  and  send  him  a  crocheted  four-in-hand 
for  a  Christmas  present.  This  makes  him  loathe 
foul  lips  and  the  painted  cheek.  When  a  boy 
'grows  wise'  he  stands,  sure's  you're  born,  on  the 
brink  of  hell.  It's  a  pity  that  so  many,  instead  of 
backing  away  when  they  get  their  eyelashes  singed 
a  little,  jump  right  in. 

"All  during  my  first  year  I  had  helped  the  sample 
clerk,  who  had  the  best  job  in  the  house,  get  out 
samples  for  the  salesmen.  It  was  not  umy  business" 
to  do  this;  but  I  did  it  during  spare  time  from  my 
regular  work.  When  I  came  back  from  my  visit 
home,  the  old  gentleman  found  me  on  the  floor  one 
day  while  I  was  tagging  samples.  'Billie,'  said  he, 
'Fritz  (the  sample  clerk)  is  going  out  on  the  road 
for  us  next  week.  I  have  decided  to  let  you  take 
his  place  here  in  the  house.  You  are  pretty  young 
but  we  think  you  can  do  it.' 

"I  tried  to  answer  back,  'I'll  do  my  best,'  but  I 
couldn't  say  a  word.  I  only  choked.  The  old  gen- 

no 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tleman  had  to  turn  away  from  me;  it  was  too  much 
for  him,  too.  After  he  stepped  on  the  elevator,  he 
turned  around  and  smiled  at  me.  I  heard  him  blow 
his  nose  after  the  elevator  sunk  out  of  sight.  I 
knew  then  that  he  believed  in  me  and  I  said  to  my- 
self, 'He  shall  never  lose  his  faith.' 

"In  a  few  days  Fritz  had  gone  out  on  his  trip 
and  I  was  left  alone  to  do  his  work,  the  old  gentle- 
man handed  me  a  sample  book  one  afternoon  near 
closing  time.  'Billie,'  says  he,  'Gregory  is  in  a  hurry 
for  his  samples.  Express  them  to  Fayetteville.'  He 
had  merely  written  the  stock  numbers  in  the  book. 
It  was  up  to  me  to  fill  in  on  the  sample  book  the 
description  of  the  goods  and  the  prices.  This  I  did 
that  night  at  home  from  memory.  I  had  learned 
the  stock  that  well.  I  also  wrote  the  sample  tickets. 
It  took  me  until  after  midnight.  Next  morning  I 
was  waiting  at  the  front  door  when  the  early  man 
came  to  unlock  it*  That  night  the  samples  went  to 
Fayetteville. 

"Two  days  afterward  the  old  gentleman  called 
me  to  the  office  and  asked  me:  'When  can  Gregory 
expect  his  samples  ?  He's  in  a  big  hurry.' 

"  'I  sent  them  Wednesday  night,  sir,'  said  I. 

'Wednesday  night !    Why  it  was  Tuesday  night 
when  I  gave  you  the  sample  book!' 

"  Tm  sure  they  went,'  said  I,  'because  I  saw  the 
cases  go  into  the  express  wagon.' 

"  'All    right/    said   the    old    gentleman;    and   he 

in 


Tales  of  the  Road 

smiled  at  me  again  the  same  way  he  did  the  morn- 
ing he  made  me  the  sample  clerk,  a  smile  which  told 
me  I  had  his  heart,  and  I  have  it  to  this  day. 

"Next  morning  he  sent  up  to  me  a  letter  from 
Gregory,  who  wrote  that  the  samples  came  to  him 
in  better  shape  than  ever  before.  At  the  end  of  that 
year  I  got  a  check  for  $150  back  pay,  and  my  salary 
was  raised  again.  At  the  end  of  the  third  year  the 
old  gentleman  gave  me  more  back  pay  and  another 
raise,  saying  to  me:  'Billie,  I  have  decided  to  put 
you  on  the  road  over  Moore's  old  territory.  He  is 
not  going  to  be  with  us  any  more.  Be  ready  to  start 
January  ist.'  I  was  the  youngest  man  that  firm 
ever  put  out.  I  was  with  them  sixteen  years  and  it 
almost  broke  my  heart  to  leave  them." 

"You  bet,"  said  I,  "the  stock  boy  has  a  chance  if 
he  only  knows  it." 

"Yes,"  answered  my  friend,  "sure  he  has.  My 
mother  put  in  my  trunk  when  I  left  home  a  Sunday 
School  card  on  which  were  the  words:  'Thy  God 
seeth  thee,  my  son.'  Without  irreverence  I  would 
advise  every  stock  boy  who  wants  to  get  on  the  road 
to  write  these  words  and  keep  them  before  him 
every  day:  'The  eyes  of  the  old  man  are  upon  me.'  ' 

I  once  heard  one  of  the  very  successful  clothing 
salesmen  of  Chicago  tell  how  he  got  on  the  road. 

"I  had  been  drudging  along  in  the  office  making 
out  bills  for  more  than  a  year,  at  ten  a  week,"  said 
he.  "My  father  traveled  for  the  firm  but  he  never 

112 


Tales  of  the  Road 

would  do  anything  to  get  me  started  on  the  road. 
He  thought  I  would  fall  down.  I  was  simply  crazy 
to  go.  I  had  seen  the  salesmen  get  down  late,  sit 
around  like  gentlemen,  josh  the  bosses,  smoke  good 
cigars  and  come  and  go  when  they  pleased  for  eight 
months  in  the  year.  This  looked  better  to  me  than 
slaving  away  making  out  bills  from  half  past  seven 
in  the  morning  until  half  past  six  at  night,  going  out 
at  noon  hungry  as  a  hound  and  having  to  climb  a 
ladder  after  a  ham  sandwich,  a  glass  of  milk  and  a 
piece  of  apple  pie. 

"I  had  kept  myself  pretty  well  togged  up  and,  as 
my  father 'wouldn't  do  anything  to  get  me  started,  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  straight  to  the  boss  myself. 
He  was  a  little  fat  sawed-off.  He  wore  gold- 
rimmed  glasses  and  whenever  he  was  interested  in 
anybody,  he  would  look  at  him  over  his  specs.  He 
did  not  know  much  about  the  English  language,  but 
he  had  a  whole  lot  more  good  common  sense  than 
I  gave  him  credit  for  then.  It  never  hurts  a  boy  in 
the  house,  you  know,  who  wants  to  go  on  the  road 
to  go  square  up  and  say  so.  He  may  get  a  turn- 
down, but  the  boss  will  like  his  spunk,  and  he  stands 
a  better  show  this  way  than  if  he  dodges  back  and 
waits  always  for  the  boss  to  come  to  him.  Many  a 
boy  gets  out  by  striking  the  'Old  Man'  to  go  out.  If 
the  boy  puts  up  a  good  talk  to  him  the  old  man  will 
say:  'He  came  at  me  pretty  well.  By  Jove,  he  can 
approach  merchants,  and  we  will  give  him  a  chance.' 


Tales  of  the  Road 

uOne  day,  pretty  soon  after  I  had  braced  the 
old  man  to  send  me  out,  a  merchant  in  Iowa  wrote 
in  that  he  wanted  to  buy  a  bill  of  clothing.  They 
looked  him  up  in  Dun's  and  found  that  he  was  in  the 
grocery  business.  My  father  didn't  wish  to  go  out 
— the  town  was  in  his  territory.  I  overheard  the 
old  man  in  the  office  say  to  him:  'Let's  send  Chim.' 

"Well,  Jim  started  that  night.  They  told  me  to 
take  a  sleeper,  but  I  sat  up  all  night  to  save  the  two 
dollars.  I  didn't  save  much  money,  though,  because 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  I  got  hungry  and  filled 
up  on  peanuts  and  train  bananas.  The  town  was  up 
on  a  branch  and  I  didn't  get  there  until  six  o'clock 
the  next  day.  When  I  reached  there,  I  went  right 
up  to  my  man's  store.  You  ought  to  have  seen  his 
place !  The  town  was  about  seven  hundred,  and  the 
store  just  about  evened  up  with  it— groceries  and 
hardware.  I  got  a  whiff  from  a  barrel  of  sauer 
kraut  as  I  went  in  the  door;  on  the  counter  was  a 
cheese  case;  frying  pans  and  lanterns  hung  down 
on  hooks  from  the  ceiling;  two  farmers  sat  near  the 
stove  eating  sardines  and  crackers.  No  clothing 
was  in  sight  and  I  said  to  myself:  'Well,  I'm  up 
against  it;  this  man  can't  buy  much;  he  hasn't  any 
place  to  put  it  if  he  does.'  But  I've  since  learned 
one  thing:  You  never  know  who  is  going  to  buy 
goods  and  howT  many  on  the  road  must  learn  that 
the  man  who  has  nothing  in  his  line  is  the  very  man 
who  can  and  will  buy  the  most,  sometimes,  because 

114 


"YOU  OUGHT  TO  HAVE  SEEN    HIS  PLACE." 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  hasn't  any.     And  besides,  the  little  man  may  be 
just  in  the  notion  of  spreading  himself. 

"A  young  man  was  counting  eggs  back  near  the 
coal  oil  can.  He  was  the  only  one  around  who 
seemed  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  store.  I 
walked  up  to  him  and  told  him  who  I  was.  He 
said,  'Yes,  we  are  glad  to  see  you.  I'm  just  out  of 
school  and  father  wants  to  put  me  in  business  here. 
He  is  going  to  put  in  all  his  time  in  the  bank.  He 
wants  me  to  take  charge  of  the  store.  IVe  told  him 
we  could  sell  other  things  besides  groceries — they 
are  dirty,  anyway,  and  don't  pay  much  profit ;  so  we 
have  started  to  build  on  another  room  right  next 
door  and  are  going  to  put  in  other  lines.  IVe  told 
father  we  ought  to  put  in  clothing,  but  he  hasn't 
fully  made  up  his  mind.  I'll  ask  him  to  come  down 
after  supper  and  you  can  talk  to  him.' 

'  'Hasn't  fully  made  up  his  mind,  and  here  I  am 
my  first  time  out,  24  hours  away,  and  a  big  ex- 
pense,'— all  this  went  through  me  and  I  couldn't  eat 
any  supper. 

"The  old  banker  that  evening  was  just  tolerably 
glad  to  see  me.  It  wasn't  exactly  a  freeze,  but  there 
was  lots  of  frost  in  the  air.  He  said,  after  we  had 
talked  the  thing  over,  that  he  would  look  at  my 
samples  the  next  morning,  but  that  he  would  not  buy 
unless  my  line  was  right  and  the  prices  were  right. 
I  was  sure  my  'prices  were  right.'  I  had  heard  the 
bosses  talk  a  whole  year  about  how  cheaply  they 


Tales  of  the  Road 

sold  their  goods.  I  had  heard  them  swear  at  the 
salesmen  for  cutting  prices  and  tell  them  that  the 
goods  were  marked  at  bare  living  profit;  and  I 
was  green  enough  to  believe  this.  I  also  knew  that 
my  line  was  the  best  one  on  the  road.  I  had  not 
stopped  to  figure  out  how  my  bosses  could  stay 
under  their  own  roof  all  the  time  and  know  so  much 
about  other  houses'  goods  and  be  absolutely  sure  that 
their  owrn  line  was  bound  *to  be  the  best  ever.  I  had 
heard  the  road-men  many  times  tell  the  bosses  to 
'wake  up,'  but  I  did  not  believe  the  salesmen.  You 
know  that  a  young  fellow,  even  if  he  is  with  a  weak 
house,  starts  out  on  his  first  trip  feeling  that  his  house 
is  the  best  one.  Before  he  gets  through  with  his 
maiden  trip,  even  though  his  house  is  a  thoroughbred, 
he  will  think  it  is  a  selling  plater. 

"That  night  I  worked  until  two  o'clock  opening 
up.  I  did  not  know  the  marks  so  I  had  to  squirm  out 
what  the  characters  meant  and  put  the  prices  on  the 
tickets  in  plain  figures  so  I  would  know  what  the 
goods  were  worth.  But  this  was  a  good  thing.  The 
salesman  or  the  firm  that  has  the  honesty  and  the 
boldness  to  mark  samples  in  plain  figures  and  stick 
absolutely  to  their  marked  price,  will  do  business  with 
ease.  Merchants  in  the  country  do  not  wish  to  buy 
cheaper  than  those  in  other  towns  do ;  they  only  wish 
a  square  deal.  And,  say  what  you  will,  they  are  kind 
o'  leery  when  they  buy  from  samples  marked  in  char- 
acters— not  plain  figures.  They  often  use  a  blind 

116 


Tales  of  the  Road 

mark  to  do  scaly  work  on  their  own  customers  and 
they  don't  like  to  have  the  same  game  worked  on 
themselves.  Honest  merchants,  and  I  mean  by  this 
those  who  make  only  a  reasonable  profit,  mark  their 
goods  in  plain  figures,  cut  prices  to  nobody — prefer 
to  do  business  with  those  who  do  it  their  way.  The 
traveling  man  who  breaks  prices  soon  loses  out. 

"That  night  I  couldn't  sleep.  I  was  up  early  next 
morning  and  had  a  good  fire  in  my  sample  room.  I 
had  sense  enough  to  make  the  place  where  I  was 
going  to  show  my  goods  as  comfortable  as  I  could. 
I  sold  a  bill  of  $2,500  and  never  cut  a  price. 

4  When  I  got  home  I  put  the  order  on  the  old 
man's  desk  and  went  to  my  stool  to  make  out  bills. 
The  old  man  came  in.  He  picked  up  the  order  and 
looked  over  it  carefully,  then  he  asked  one  of  the 
boys :  * Vere's  Chim  ?  Tell  him  to  com  heer.  I  vant 
to  see  him.' 

"I  walked  into  the  office.  The  old  man  was  look- 
ing at  me  over  his  specs  as  I  went  in.  He  grabbed 
me  by  the  hand  and  said  so  loud  you  could  hear  him 
all  over  the  house:  'Ah,  Chim,  dot  vas  tandy  orter. 
How  dit  you  do  id  mitoud  cotting  prices,  Chim? 
You  vas  a  motel  for  efery  men  ve  haf  in  der  house. 
I  did  nod  know  ve  hat  a  salesman  in  der  office.  By 
Himmel!  you  got  a  chob  on  der  roat  right  avay, 
Chim.'  " 


117 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FIRST  EXPERIENCES  IN  SELLING. 

I  SAT  with  a  group  of  friends  around  a  table  one 
evening  not  long  ago,  in  one  of  the  dining  rooms 
of  the  Brown  Palace  Hotel  in  Denver.  The  dining 
room  was  done  in  dark  stained  oak,  the  waiters  whis- 
pered to  each  other  in  foreign  tongues,  French  and 
German;  on  the  walls  of  the  room  were  pictures  of 
foreign  scenes  painted  by  foreign  hands;  but,  aside 
from  this,  everything  about  us  was  strictly  American. 
We  had  before  us  blue  points  with  water-cress  salad, 
mountain  trout  from  the  Rockies,  and  a  Porterhouse 
three  inches  thick.  We  had  just  come  out  of  the 
brush  and  were  going  to  "Sunday"  in  Denver.  It 
was  Saturday  night,  A  man  who  has  never  been  on 
the  road  does  not  know  what  it  is  to  get  a  square  meal 
after  he  has  been  "high-grassing  it"  for  a  week  or 
two,  and  when  such  can  become  the  pleasure  of  a 
drummer,  he  quickly  forgets  the  tough  uchuck"  he 
has  been  chewing  for  many  days. 

We  were  all  old  friends,  had  known  each  other  in 
a  different  territory  many  years  before;  so,  when  we 
came  together  again,  this  time  in  Denver,  not  having 
seen  each  other  for  many  years,  we  talked  of  old 

118 


Tales  of  the  Road 

times  and  of  when  we  met  with  our  first  experiences 
on  the  road. 

When  a  man  first  begins  to  hustle  trunks  he  has  a 
whole  lot  to  learn.  Usually  he  has  been  a  stock- 
boy,  knowing  very  little  of  the  world  beyond  the 
bare  walls  in  which  he  has  filled  orders.  To  his  fel- 
low travelers  the  young  man  on  the  road  is  just  about 
as  green  as  they  make  them,  but  the  rapid  way  in 
which  he  catches  on  and  becomes  an  old-timer,  is  a 
caution. 

A  great  many  decry  the  life  of  the  traveling  man, 
even  men  on  the  road  themselves  are  discontented, 
but  if  you  want  to  get  one  who  is  truly  happy  and 
satisfied  with  his  lot,  find  one  who,  after  having  en- 
joyed the  free  and  independent  (yes,  and  delight- 
ful!) life  of  the  road,  and  then  settled  down  for  a 
little  while  as  a  merchant  on  his  own  hook,  insurance 
agent,  or  something  of  that  kind,  and  finally  has  gone 
back  to  his  grips,  and  you  will  find  a  man  who  will 
say:  "Well,  somebody  else  can  do  other  things,  but, 
for  my  part,  give  me  the  road." 

After  we  had  finished  with  the  good  things  before 
us  and  had  lighted  cigars,  we  could  all  see  in  the  blue 
curls  of  smoke  that  rose  before  us  visions  of  our  past 
lives.  I  asked  one  of  my  friends,  "How  long  have 
you  been  on  the  road,  Billy  ?" 

"Good  Lord!"  he  yawned,  "I  haven't  thought  of 
that  for  a  long  time,  but  I  sure  do  remember  when  I 
first  started  out.  I  left  St.  Louis  one  Sunday  night 

119 


Tales  of  the  Road 

on  the  Missouri  Pacific.  It  was  nearly  twenty  years 
ago.  I  remember  it  very  well  because  that  night  I 
read  in  a  newspaper  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a 
phonograph  and,  as  I  was  traveling  through  Mis- 
souri, I  didn't  believe  it.  I  had  to  wait  until  I  could 
see  one.  The  next  day  noon  I  struck  Falls  City, 
Nebraska.  It  had  taken  me  eighteen  hours  to  make 
the  trip.  To  me  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  going  into  a 
new  world  and  I  was  surprised  to  find,  when  I 
reached  Nebraska,  that  men  way  out  there  wore 
about  the  same  sort  of  clothes  that  they  did  in  St. 
Louis.  I  would  not  have  been  surprised  a  bit  if  some 
Indian  had  come  out  of  the  bushes  and  tried  to  scalp 
me.  The  depot  was  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  hotel. 
Here  I  took  my  first  ride  in  an  omnibus.  The  inside 
of  that  old  bus,  the  red-cushioned  seats  and  the  ad- 
vertisements of  a  livery  stable,  a  hardware  store,  and 
"Little  Jake's  Tailor  Shop"  were  all  new  to  me.  Mud  ? 
I  never  saw  mud  so  deep  in  my  life.  It  took  us  an  hour 
to  get  up  town.  The  little  white  hotel  with  the  green 
shutters  on  it  was  one  of  the  best  I  ever  struck  in  my 
life.  Many  a  time  since  then  I  have  wished  I  could 
have  carried  it — the  good  friend,  chicken  and  all — 
along  with  me  in  all  my  travels.  My  best  friend  and 
adviser,  an  old  road  man  himself,  had  told  me  this: 
'When  you  get  to  a  town,  get  up  your  trunks  and 
open  them  and  then  go  and  see  the  trade.  You  might 
just  as  well  hunt  quail  with  your  shells  in  your  pocket 
as  to  try  to  do  business  without  your  samples  open.' 

1 20 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"I  opened  up  that  afternoon.  It  took  me  three 
hours.  I  put  my  samples  in  good  shape  so  that  I 
knew  where  to  lay  my  hands  on  anything  that  a  cus- 
tomer might  ask  for — and  you  know  if  you  go  out  to 
sell  anything  you'd  better  know  what  you  have  to 
sell !  My  samples  open,  I  went  down  the  street  and 
fell  into  the  first  store  I  came  to.  The  proprietor  had 
been  an  old  customer  of  the  house,  but  I  now  know 
that  the  reason  he  gave  me  the  ice  pitcher  was  that 
he  had  been  slow  in  paying  his  bills  and  the  house  had 
drawn  on  him.  A  wise  thing,  this,  for  a  house  to  do 
— when  they  want  to  lose  a  customer!  This  was  a 
heart-breaker  to  me  right  at  the  start,  but  it  was 
lucky,  because,  if  I  had  sold  him,  I  would  have 
packed  up  and  gone  away  without  working  the  town. 
A  man  on  the  road,  you  know,  boys,  even  if  he  doesn't 
do  business  with  them,  should  form  the  acquaintance 
of  all  the  men  in  the  town  who  handle  his  line.  The 
old  customer  may  drop  dead,  sell  out,  or  go  broke, 
and  it  is  always  well  to  have  somebody  else  in  line. 
Of  course  there  are  justifiable  exceptions  to  this  rule, 
but  in  general  I  would  say:  'Know  as  many  as  you 
can  who  handle  your  line.' 

"After  the  old  customer  turned  me  down  I  went 
into  every  store  in  that  town  and  told  my  business. 
I  found  two  out  of  about  six  who  said  they  would 
look  at  my  goods.  By  this  time  everybody  had  closed 
up  and  I  came  back  to  the  hotel  and  went  to  bed, 

121 


Tales  of  the  Road 

having  spent  the  first  day  without  doing  any  busi- 
ness. 

"Five  men  from  my  house  in  this  same  territory 
had  fallen  down  in  five  years  and  I,  a  kid  almost,  was 
number  six — but  not  to  fall  down !  I  said  to  myself, 
7  am  going  to  succeed.'  The  will  to  win  means  a 
whole  lot  in  this  road  business,  too,  boys.  You 
know,  if  you  go  at  a  thing  half-heartedly  you  are  sure 
to  lose  out,  but  if  you  say  *I  will/  you  cannot  fall 
down. 

"Next  morning  I  was  up  early  and,  before  the 
clerks  had  dusted  off  the  counters,  I  went  in  to  see 
the  old  gentleman  who  had  said  he  would  look  at  my 
goods. 

"  'Round  pretty  early,  aren't  you,  son?'  said  the 
old  gentleman. 

"  'Yes,  sir;  but  I'm  after  the  worm,'  said  I. 

"  'All  right.  Go  up  to  your  hotel  and  I'll  be  there 
in  half  an  hour.' 

"Instead  of  waiting  until  he  was  ready  for  me,  I 
went  to  the  hotel.  After  the  half  hour  was  up  I 
began  to  get  nervous.  It  was  an  hour  and  a  half  be- 
fore he  came.  I  hadn't  then  learned  that  the  best 
way  to  do  is  to  go  with  your  customer  from  his  store 
to  yours,  instead  of  sitting  around  and  waiting  for 
him  to  come  to  you.  This  gives  him  a  chance  to  get 
out  of  the  notion. 

"I  sold  the  old  gentleman  a  pretty  fair  bill  of  hats, 
but  it  was  sort  of  a  hit  and  miss  proposition.  He 

122 


Tales  of  the  Road 

would  jump  from  this  thing  to  that  thing.  I  hadn't 
learned  that  the  real  way  to  sell  goods  it  to  lay  out 
one  line  at  a  time  and  finish  with  that  before  going 
to  another.  Pretty  soon,  though,  good  merchants 
educated  me  how  to  sell  a  bill.  This  is  a  thing  a 
beginner  should  be  taught  something  about  before  he 
starts  out. 

uCustomer  No.  2  was  a  poke.  But  I  suppose  this 
was  the  reason  I  sold  him,  because  most  of  the  boys, 
I  afterwards  learned,  passed  him  up  and  had  nick- 
named him  c  Old  Sorgum-in-the-Winter.'  It  is  a 
pretty  good  idea  to  let  a  slow  man  have  his  way, 
anyhow,  if  you  have  plenty  of  time,  because  when  you 
are  selling  goods  in  dozen  lots,  no  matter  how  slow 
a  man  is,  you  can  get  in  a  pretty  good  day's  work 
in  a  few  hours. 

When  I  got  through  with  'Old  Sorgum'  I  had  sev- 
eral hours  left  before  my  train  went  west.  Did  I 
pack  up  and  quit?  Bet  your  life  not!  I  didn't  have 
sense  enough  then,  I  suppose,  to  know  that  I  had 
placed  my  goods  in  about  as  many  stores  as  I  ought 
to.  I  then  did  the  'bundle  act.' 

"I  did  up  a  bunch  of  stuff  in  a  cloth  and  went 
down  the  street  with  the  samples  under  my  arm.  I 
did  have  sense  enough,  though,  to  tuck  them  under 
my  coat  as  I  passed  by  the  store  of  the  man  I  had 
sold.  I  didn't  know,  then,  of  the  business  jealousy 
— which  is  folly,  you  know — there  is  between  mer- 
chants ;  but  I  felt  a  little  guilty  just  the  same.  The 

123 


Tales  of  the  Road 

only  thing  I  sold,  however,  was  a  dozen  dog-skid 
gloves  to  the  big  clothing  merchant  on  the  corner. 
That  night  I  took  the  two  o'clock  train  out  of  town 
and  had  my  first  experience  of  sleeping  in  two  beds 
in  two  towns  in  one  night — but  this,  in  those  days, 
was  fun  for  me. 

"Do  you  know,  I  had  a  bully  good  week?  I  was 
out  early  that  season,  ahead  of  the  bunch.  By  Sat- 
urday afternoon  I  had  worked  as  far  west  as 
Wymore.  I  went  up  to  see  a  man  there  on  Saturday 
afternoon.  He  said,  Til  see  you  in  the  morning.' 
Well,  there  I  was !  I  had  been  raised  to  respect  the 
Sabbath  and  between  the  time  that  he  said  he  would 
see  me  in  the  morning  and  the  time  that  I  said  all 
right — which  was  about  a  jiffy — I  figured  out  that  it 
would  be  better  to  succeed  doing  business  on  Sunday 
than  to  fail  by  being  too  offensively  good.  For  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  place  work  is  apt  to  be  less 
mischievous  than  idling,  even  on  the  Sabbath  Day. 

"Heavens !  how  I  worked  those  days !  After  I  had 
made  the  appointment  for  Sunday  morning  I  went 
back  to  the  hotel  and  threw  my  stuff  into  my  trunks 
quickly — by  this  time  I  had  learned  that  to  handle 
samples  in  a  hurry  is  one  of  the  necessary  arts  of  the 
road — and  took  a  train  to  a  little  nearby  town  which 
I  could  double  into  without  losing  any  time.  I  even 
had  the  nerve  to  drag  a  man  over  to  my  sample  room 
after  he  had  closed  up  on  Saturday  night!  I  didn't 
sell  him  anything  that  time,  but  afterwards  he  became 

124 


Tales  of  the  Road 

one  of  my  best  customers.  It  pays  to  keep  hustling, 
you  know. 

uWhew!  how  cold  it  was  that  night.  The  train 
west  left  at  3  a.  m.  Heavens!  how  cold  my  room 
was.  A  hardware  man  had  never  even  slept  in  it,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  ever  having  known  a  stove.  The 
windows  had  whiskers  on  them  long  as  a  billy 
goat's;  the  mattress  was  one  of  those  thin  boys.  I 
hadn't  then  learned  that  the  cold  can  come  through 
the  mattress  under  you  just  about  as  fast  as  it  can 
through  the  quilts  on  top.  I  hadn't  got  onto  the 
lamp  chimney  trick." 

"Why,  what's  that?"  spoke  up  one  of  the  boys. 

"Aren't  you  onto  that?"  said  Billy.  "You  can 
take  a  lamp  chimney,  wrap  it  up  in  a  towel  and  put 
it  at  your  feet  and  it  will  make  your  whole  bed  as 
warm  as  toast. 

"Well,  I  went  back  to  Wymore  the  next  morning 
and  sold  my  man.  I  cut  the  stuffing  out  of  prices 
because  I  had  been  told  that  the  firm  he  bought  from 
was  the  best  going,  and  I  remembered  the  advice  that 
my  old  friend  had  given  me :  'It's  better,  Billy,  to  be 
cussed  for  selling  goods  cheap  than  to  be  fired  for 
not  selling  them  at  all.'  Of  course  I  don't  agree  with 
this  now,  but  I  slashed  that  bill  just  the  same. 

"Next  morning,  when  I  reached  Beatrice,  the  first 
thing  I  saw  in  the  old  hotel  (I  still  recall  that  dead, 
musty  smell)  was  a  church  directory  hanging  on  the 

125 


Tales  of  the  Road 

wall.     In  the  center  of  the  directory  were  printed 
these  words : 

"  *A  Sabbath  well  spent  brings  a  week  of  content 

And  plenty  of  health  for  the  morrow; 
But  a  Sabbath  profaned,  no  matter  what  gained, 
Is  a  certain  forerunner  of  sorrow/ 

uDown  in  the  corner,  where  the  glass  was  broken, 
one  of  the  boys  who  had  without  doubt  profaned  the 
Sabbath,  had  written  these  words : 

"  4A  man  who's  thrifty  on  Sunday's  worth  fifty 

Of  a  half-sanctimonious  duck; 
He  will  get  along  well  if  he  does  go  to  dwell 
Where  he'll  chew  on  Old  Satan's  hot  chuck.' 

uMy  business  the  week  before  had  been  simply  out 
of  sight.  The  old  man  in  the  house  wrote  me  the 
only  congratulatory  letter  I  ever  got  from  him  in  my 
life.  He  was  so  well  pleased  with  what  I  had  done 
that  he  didn't  kick  very  hard  even  on  the  bill  that  I 
had  slashed.  But  that  next  week — oh,  my !  I  didn't 
sell  enough  to  buy  honeysuckles  for  a  humming  bird. 
I  began  to  think  that  maybe  that  Sunday  bill  had 
'queered'  me." 

"But  how  about  Sunday  now,  Bill?"  spoke  up  one 
of  the  boys.  uDo  you  think  you'd  like  to  take  a  good 
fat  order  to-morrow?" 

uYes,  I've  grown  not  to  mind  it  out  in  this  coun- 
try," said  Billy.  uYou  know  we've  a  saying  out  here 
that  the  Lord  has  never  come  west  of  Cheyenne." 

126 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"I  shall  never  forget  my  first  experience,"  said  my 
old  friend  Jim,  as  we  all  lighted  fresh  cigars — having 
forgotten  the  Dutch  pictures  and  the  black  oak  fur- 
nishings. 

"I  had  made  a  little  flyer  for  the  house  to  pick  up 
a  bill  of  opening  stock  out  in  Iowa.  They  all  thought 
in  the  office  that  the  bill  wasn't  worth  going  after, 
so  they  sent  me;  but  I  landed  a  twenty-five  hundred 
dollar  order  without  slashing  an  item,  a  thing  no 
other  salesman  up  to  that  time  had  ever  done,  so  the 
old  man  called  me  in  the  office  and  gave  me  a  job  just 
as  soon  as  I  came  back. 

"I  started  out  with  two  hundred  dollars  expense 
money.  The  roll  of  greenbacks  the  cashier  handed 
me  looked  as  big  as  a  bale  of  hay.  I  made  a  couple 
of  towns  the  first  two  days  and  did  business  in  both 
of  them,  keeping  up  the  old  lick  of  not  cutting  a  price. 

"The  next  town  I  was  booked  for  was  Broken 
Bow,  which  was  then  off  the  main  line  of  the  'Q,' 
and -way  up  on  a  branch.  To  get  there  I  had  to  go 
to  Grand  Island.  Now,  you  boys  remember  the 
mob  that  used  to  hang  out  around  the  hotel  at  Grand 
Island.  That  was  the  time  when  there  were  a  lot  of 
poker  sharks  on  the  road.  When  I  was  a  bill  clerk 
in  Chicago  I  used  to  meet  with  some  of  the  other 
boys  from  the  store  on  Saturday  nights,  play  penny 
ante,  five-cent  limit,  and  settle  for  twenty-five  cents 
on  the  dollar  when  we  got  through — I  was  with  a 
clothing  firm,  you  know.  I  had  always  been  rather 

127 


Tales  of  the  Road 

lucky  and  I  had  it  in  my  head  that  I  could  buck  up 
against  anybody  in  a  poker  game.  I  had  no  trouble 
finding  company  to  sit  in  with.  In  fact,  they  looked 
me  up.  In  those  days  there  were  plenty  of  glass 
bowls  full  of  water  setting  'round  for  suckers.  My 
train  didn't  leave  until  Monday  morning  and  I  had 
to  Sunday  at  Grand  Island. 

"We  started  in  on  Saturday  night  and  played  all 
night  long.  By  the  time  we  had  breakfast — and  this 
we  had  sent  up  to  the  room — I  was  out  about  forty 
dollars.  I  wanted  to  quit  them  and  call  it  off.  I 
thought  this  was  about  as  much  as  I  could  stand  to 
lose  and  'cover'  in  my  expense  account,  but  all  of  the 
old  sharks  said,  'By  jove,  you  have  got  nerve,  Jim. 
You  have  the  hardest  run  of  luck  in  drawing  cards 
that  I  ever  saw.'  They  doped  me  up  with  the  usual 
words  of  praise  and,  after  I  had  put  a  cup  of  coffee 
or  two  under  my  belt,  I  went  at  it  again,  making  up 
my  mind  that  I  could  stand  to  lose  another  ten.  I 
figured  out  that  I  could  make  a  team  trip  and 
'break  a  wheel'  to  even  up  on  expenses. 

"Well,  you  know  what  that  means.  The  time  for 
you  to  quit  a  poker  game  (when  you  have  money  in 
your  pocket)  is  like  to-morrow — it  never  comes.  By 
nightfall  I  was  dead  broke.  Then  I  began  to  think. 
I  felt  like  butting  my  brains  out  against  a  lamp-post; 
but  that  wouldn't  do.  I  ate  supper  all  alone  and 
went  to  thinking  what  I'd  do. 

"I  wasn't  a  kitten,  by  any  means,  so  I  went  up  to 

128 


Tales  of  the  Road 

my  shark  friends  and  struck  one  of  them  for  enough 
to  carry  me  up  to  Broken  Bow  and  back.  He  was  a 
big  winner  and  came  right  up  with  the  twenty.  They 
wanted  to  let  me  in  the  game  again  on  'tick,'  but  then 
I  had  sense  enough  to  know  that  I'd  had  plenty.  I 
went  to  my  room  and  wrote  the  house.  I  simply 
made  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  business.  I  told 
them  the  truth  about  the  matter — that  I'd  acted  the 
fool — and  I  promised  them  I'd  never  do  it  any 
more;  and  I  haven't  played  a  game  of  poker  since. 
The  old  man  of  the  house  had  wired  me  money  to 
Grand  Island  by  the  time  I  returned  there  and  in 
the  first  mail  he  wrote  me  to  keep  right  on. 

"Business  was  bum  with  me  for  the  next  three 
days.  I  didn't  sell  a  cent.  One  of  the  boys  tipped 
me  on  an  Irishman  down  in  Schuyler  who  had  had  a 
squabble  with  his  clothing  house.  I  saw  a  chance 
right  there  and  jumped  right  into  that  town.  I  got 
the  man  to  look  at  my  goods.  He  looked  them  all 
through  from  A  to  Z,  but  I  couldn't  start  that 
Hibernian  to  save  my  life. 

"He  said,  'Well,  your  line  looks  pretty  good;  but, 
heavens  alive !  your  prices  are  away  too  high.'  Then 
he  said,  picking  up  a  coat :  'Look  here,  young  man, 
you're  new  on  the  road  and  I  want  to  figure  out  and 
show  you  that  you're  getting  too  much  for  your 
goods.  Now,  you  put  down  there,  here  is  a  suit  that 
you  ask  me  $12  for.  Just  figure  the  cloth  and  the 
linings,  and  the  buttons,  and  the  work.  All  told  they 

129 


Tales  of  the  Road 

don't  cost  you  people  over  seven  dollars.  You  ought 
to  be  able  to — and  you  can — make  me  this  suit  for 
$10.  That's  profit  enough.  You  can't  expect  to  do 
business  with  us  people  out  here  in  Nebraska  and 
hold  us  up.  We're  not  in  the  backwoods.  People 
are  civilized  out  here.  Your  house  has  figured  that 
we're  Indians,  or  something  of  that  kind.  You  know 
very  well  that  they  sell  this  same  suit  in  Illinois, 
where  competition  is  greater,  for  ten  dollars.  Now 
I  won't  stand  for  any  high  prices  like  you're  asking 
me.  I'm  going  to  quit  the  old  firm  that  I've  been 
buying  goods  from.  I've  got  onto  them.  Now  I'm 
going  to  give  my  business  to  somebody  and  you're 
here  on  the  spot.  Your  goods  suit  me  as  far  as  pat- 
tern and  make  and  general  appearance  go,  and  I'll 
do  business  with  you,  and  do  it  right  now,  if  you'll 
do  it  on  the  right  sort  of  basis.' 

"Well,  there  I  was.  I  hadn't  sold  a  bill  for  three 
days  and  I  felt  that  this  one  was  slipping  right  away 
from  me,  too.  I  had  come  especially  to  see  the  man 
and  he  had  told  me  that  he  would  buy  goods  from  me 
if  I  would  make  the  price  right.  So  I  lit  in  to  cut. 
I  sold  him  the  twelve  dollar  suit  for  ten  dollars.  He 
took  a  dozen  of  them.  It  was  a  staple.  I  didn't 
know  anything  about  what  the  goods  were  worth, 
but  he  had  made  his  bluff  good.  I  sold  him  the  bill 
right  through  at  cut  prices  on  everything.  The  house 
actually  lost  money  on  the  bill.  I  have  long  since 
learned  that  the  only  way  to  meet  a  bluffer  is  with  a 

130 


Tales  of  the  Road 

bluff.  This  man  had  laid  out  a  line  of  goods  which 
he  fully  intended,  I  know  now,  to  buy  from  me  at 
the  prices  which  I  had  first  asked  him  for  them,  but 
he  thought  he  would  buy  them  cheaper  from  me  if  he 
could. 

"Many  a  time  after  that,  when  I  had  got  onto 
things  better,  has  this  old  Irishman  laughed  at  me 
about  ho^  he  worked  me  into  giving  him  a  bill  of 
goods,  and  enjoyed  the  joke  of  it — Irishmanlike — 
more,  I  believe,  than  he  did  getting  the  bill  at  low 
prices. 

4  Well,  my  nerve  was  gone  and  I  thought  the  only 
way  I  could  do  business  then  was  by  cutting  the 
stuffing  out  of  prices.  I  kept  it  up  for  a  few  days — 
until  I  received  my  next  mail  at  Omaha.  Whew! 
how  the  old  man  did  pour  it  into  me.  He  wrote  me 
the  meanest  letter  that  a  white  man  ever  got.  He 
said:  'Jim,  you  can  go  out  and  play  all  the  poker 
that  you  want  to,  but  don't  cut  the  life  out  of  goods. 
You  can  lose  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  once  in  a 
while,  if  you  want  to,  playing  cards,  that  will  be  a 
whole  lot  better  than  losing  a  hundred  and  fifty  every 
day  by  not  getting  as  much  as  goods  are  worth.  Now 
we're  going  to  forget  about  the  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  you  lost  gambling,  instead  of  charging  it  to 
your  salary  account,  as  you  told  us  to  do.  We  had 
made  up  our  minds  because  you  were  starting  out  so 
well  and  were  keeping  up  prices,  to  charge  this  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  to  your  expense  account.  We 


Tales  of  the  Road 

were  going  to  forget  all  about  that,  Jim;  but  if  you 
can't  get  better  prices  than  you  have  been  for  the  last 
week,  just  take  the  train  and  come  right  on  in  to  the 
house.  We  can't  afford  to  keep  you  out  on  the  road 
and  lose  money  on  you ;'  and  so  on. 

"I  was  scared  to  death.  I  didn't  know  that  the 
Old  Man  in  the  house  was  running  a  bigger  bluff  on 
me  than  the  Irishman  to  whom  I  made  cut  prices  on 
the  bill. 

"But  that  letter  gave  me  my  nerve  back  and  I 
ended  up  with  a  pretty  fair  trip.  At  that  time  I 
hadn't  learned  that  this  road  business  is  done  on  con- 
fidence more  than  on  knowledge.  A  salesman  must 
feel  first  within  himself  that  his  goods  and  prices  are 
right,  and  then  he  can  sell  them  at  those  prices.  If 
you  feel  a  thing  yourself  you  can  make  the  other 
man  feel  it,  especially  when  he  doesn't  know  any- 
thing about  the  values  of  the  goods  he  buys. 

"When  I  reached  the  house  one  of  the  boys  in 
stock  patted  me  on  the  back  and  said:  'Jim,  the 
old  man  is  tickled  to  death  about  what  you've  done. 
He  says  you're  making  better  profits  for  him  than 
any  man  in  the  house.' ' 

"Well,  I  guess  you  held  your  job,  all  right,  then, 
didn't  you,  Jim?" 

"Oh  my,  yes.  I  stayed  with  them — that  was  my 
old  firm,  you  know — for  fifteen  years,  and  I  was  a 
fool  for  ever  leaving  them.  I  would  have  been  a 
partner  in  the  house  to-day  if  I  hadn't  switched  off." 

132 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"How  long  have  you  been  out,  Arthur?"  said  my 
friend  Jim,  after  ending  his  story. 

"Well,  so  long  that  IVe  almost  forgotten  it,  boys, 
but  I  shall  never  forget  my  start,  either.  The  firm 
that  I  worked  for  had  a  wholesale  business,  and  they 
were  also  interested  in  a  retail  store.  I  was  stock 
man  in  the  retail  house  but  I  wasn't  satisfied  with  it. 
I  was  crazy  to  go  out  and  try  my  luck  on  the  road.  I 
braced  the  old  man  several  times  before  he  would 
let  me  start ;  but  he  finally  said  to  me :  'Well,  Arthur, 
you're  mighty  anxious  to  go  out  on  the  road,  and  I 
guess  we'll  let  you  go.  It  won't  do  much  harm  be- 
cause I  think  that,  after  a  little  bit,  you  will  want  to 
get  back  to  your  old  job.  Then  you'll  be  satisfied 
with  it.  I  kind  o'  feel,  though,  that  in  sending  you 
out  we'll  be  spoiling  a  good  retail  clerk  to  make  a 
poor  traveling  man.  You've  done  pretty  well  selling 
gloves  a  pair  at  a  time  to  people  who  come  in  and 
ask  for  them,  but  you're  going  to  have  a  good  deal 
harder  time  when  you  go  to  selling  a  dozen  at  a 
clip  to  a  man  who  hasn't  been  in  the  habit  of  buying 
them  from  you.  But,  as  you're  bent  on  going,  we'll 
start  you  out  this  season.  You  can  get  yourself  ready 
to  go  right  away.5 

"My  territory  was  Iowa.  In  the  first  town  I  struck 
was  the  meanest  merchant  I've  ever  met  in  my  life. 
But  I  didn't  know  it  then.  He  was  one  of  the  kind 
who'd  tell  you  with  a  grunt  that  he  would  not  go  to 
your  sample  room  but  if  you  had  a  few  good  sellers 

133 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  bring  them  over  and  he'd  look  at  them.  The 
old  hog !  Then  about  the  time  you'd  get  your  stuff 
over  to  his  store  something  would  have  turned  up  to 
make  him  hot  and  he'd  take  out  his  spite  on  you. 

"Well,  this  old  duck  said  he'd  look  at  my  sam- 
ples of  unlined  goods.  I  rather  thought  that  if  I 
could  get  him  started  on  unlined  goods  I  could  sell 
him  on  lined  stuff  and  mittens.  So  I  lugged  over  my 
whole  line  myself.  I  didn't  have  sense  enough  to 
give  the  porter  a  quarter  to  carry  my  grip  over  to  his 
store  and  save  my  energy,  but,  instead,  I  picked  up 
the  old  grip  myself.  It  was  all  right  for  the  first 
block,  but  then  I  had  to  sit  down  and  rest.  The  store 
was  four  blocks  away.  On  the  home  stretch  I 
couldn't  go  twenty  steps  before  I  had  to  sit  down 
and  rest.  It  was  so  heavy  that  it  almost  pulled  the 
cords  in  my  wrist  in  two.  When  I  finally  landed 
the  grip  at  the  front  of  the  old  man's  store,  my 
tongue  was  hanging  out.  He  had  then  gone  to  din- 


ner. 

u 


I  thought  I  wouldn't  eat  anything  but  that  I 
would  get  my  line  ready  for  him  by  the  time  he 
oame  back,  get  through  with  him  and  take  luncheon 
later.  I  earned  the  grip  to  the  back  end  of  the  store 
and  spread  out  my  line  on  the  counter.  About  one 
o'clock  he  came  in  and  I  said  to  him,  Tm  ready  for 
you.'  He  walked  away  and  didn't  say  a  word  but 
totfk  out  a  newspaper  and  read  for  half  an  hour.  He 

134 


Tales  of  the  Road 

did  it  for  pure  meanness,  for  not  a  single  customer 
came  into  the  store  while  he  sat  there. 

"I  was  beginning  to  get  a  little  hungry  but  I  didn't 
mind  that  then.  When  the  young  lady  on  the  dry 
goods  side  came  back  from  dinner  I  sidled  up  to  her 
and  talked  about  the  weather  for  another  half  hour. 
My  stomach  was  beginning  to  gnaw  but  I  didn't  dare 
go  out.  The  old  man  by  this  time  had  gone  to  his 
desk  and  was  writing  some  letters.  I  waited  until  I 
saw  him  address  an  envelope  and  put  a  stamp  on  it, 
and  then  I  braced  him  a  second  time. 

"  'No,  I  guess  I  don't  want  any  gloves.' 

"  Well,  I've  my  goods  all  here  and  it'll  be  no 
trouble  to  show  them  to  you,'  I  said. 

"  'Nope,'  said  he,  and  then  started  to  write  another 
letter. 

"When  he  finished  that  one,  I  said:  'Now,  I  don't 
like  to  insist  but  as  my  goods  are  all  hefe  it  won't 
do  any  harm  to  look  at  them.' 

"With  this  the  old  man  turned  on  me  and  said: 

"  'Looker  here,  young  man,  I've  told  you  twict  that 
I  don't  want  to  buy  any  of  your  goods.  Now,  you 
just  get  them  in  your  grip  and  get  them  out  of  here 
right  quick;  if  you  don't  I'll  throw  them  out  and 
you  with  them.' 

"Well,  the  old  duffer  was  a  little  bigger  than  I 
was,  and  I  didn't  want  to  get  into  any  trouble  with 
him ;  not  that  I  cared  anything  about  having  a  scrap 
with  him,  but  I  thought  that  the  firm  wouldn't  like 

135 


Tales  of  the  Road 

it,  and  if  they  got  onto  me  they'd  fire  me.  So,  with- 
out saying  a  word,  I  began  to  pack  my  goods  to- 
gether. 

"About  that  time  a  customer  came  in  who  wanted 
to  buy  a  pair  of  shoes.  Some  of  my  samples  were 
still  on  the  counter  near  the  shoe  shelves.  The  old 
man,  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand,  just  cleaned  the 
counter  of  my  samples  and  there  I  was,  picking  them 
up  off  the  floor  and  putting  them  into  my  grip.  I 
felt  like  hitting  him  over  the  head  with  a  nail  puller 
but  I  buckled  up  the  straps  and  started  sliding  the 
grip  along, — it  was  so  infernally  heavy — to  the  front 
door. 

"Before  I  got  to  the  front  door,  he  came  up  and 
took  the  grip  out  of  my  hand  and  piled  it  out  on 
the  sidewalk  and  gave  me  a  shove.  Then  he  went 
back  to  show  the  customer  the  pair  of  shoes. 

"I  was  just  a  boy  then — was  just  nineteen — and 
this  was  the  first  man  I'd  called  on. 

"  'If  they're  all  like  this,'  thought  I  to  myself,  4I 
believe  I'll  go  back  home  and  sell  them  a  pair  at  a 
time  to  the  boys  I  know  who  "come  in"  for  them.' 

"I  lugged  that  grip  back  to  the  hotel,  hungry  as 
I  was.  There  was  ice  on  the  sidewalk  but  I  was 
sweating  like  a  mule  pulling  a  bob-tailed  street  car 
full  of  fat  folks.  I  was  almost  famished  but  I  went 
to  my  room  and  cried  like  a  child.  My  heart  was 
broken. 

"But  after  awhile  my  nerve  came  back  to  me,  and 


h 
0 


Q 


Z 
Q 

S 


o 

8 


Tales  of  the  Road 

I  thought,  surely  all  the  merchants  I  call  on  won't  be 
like  that  man, — and  I  washed  up  and  went  down  to 
supper.  After  eating  something  I  felt  better.  At  the 
supper  table  I  told  an  old  traveling  man,  who  was 
sitting  at  the  table  with  me,  about  the  way  I'd  been 
treated. 

"  'Well,  come  on,  my  boy,  and  I'll  sell  you  a  bill 
tonight.  That  old  fellow  is  the  meanest  dog  in 
Iowa.  No  decent  traveling  man  will  go  near  him. 
As  a  rule,  you'll  find  that  merchants  will  treat  you 
like  a  gentleman.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to 
scratch  that  old  whelp  off  the  list.  Of  course  you 
know,'  said  he,  giving  me  advice  which  I  needed  very 
much,  'you'll  often  run  up  against  a  man  who  is 
a  little  sour,  but  if  you  sprinkle  sugar  on  him  in  the 
right  kind  of  way,  you  can  sweeten  him  up.' 

"You  know  how  it  is,  boys,  even  now,  all  of  us 
like  to  give  a  helping  hand  to  the  young  fellow  who's 
just  starting  out.  I  would  almost  hand  over  one 
of  my  customers  to  a  young  man  to  give  him  en- 
couragement, and  so  would  you.  We've  all  been  up 
against  the  game  ourselves  and  know  how  many 
things  the  young  fellow  runs  up  against  to  dishearten 
him. 

"As  I  think  of  my  early  experiences,  I  recall  with 
a  great  deal  of  gratitude  in  my  heart  the  kind  deeds 
that  were  done  for  me  when  I  was  the  green  first- 
tripper,  by  the  old  timers  on  the  road.  My  new 
friend  took  me  down  the  street  to  one  of  his  cus- 

137 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tomers  and  made  him  give  me  an  order.    That  night 
I  went  to  bed  the  happiest  boy  in  Iowa." 

With  this  one  of  the  boys  called  a  waiter.  As 
we  lit  our  cigars  my  friend  Moore,  who  was  next 
to  tell  his  story,  said,  "Well,  boys,  here's  to  Our 
First  Experiences." 


138 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TACTICS  IN  SELLING. 

THE  man  on  the  road  is  an  army  officer.  His 
soldiers  are  his  samples.  His  enemy  is  his 
competitor.  He  fights  battles  every  day.  The 
"spoils  of  war"  is  business. 

The  traveling  man  must  use  tactics  just  the  same 
as  does  the  general.  He  may  not  have  at  stake  the 
lives  of  other  men  and  the  success  of  his  country; 
but  he  does  have  at  stake — and  every  day — his  own 
livelihood,  a  chance  for  promotion — a  partnership 
perhaps — and  always,  the  success  of  his  firm. 

Many  are  the  turns  the  salesman  takes  to  get  busi- 
ness. He  must  be  always  ready  when  his  eyes  are 
open,  and  sometimes  in  his  dreams,  to  wage  war.  If 
he  is  of  the  wrong  sort,  once  in  a  while  he  will  give 
himself  up  to  sharp  practice  with  his  customer;  an- 
other time  he  will  fight  shrewdly  against  his  com- 
petitor. Sometimes  he  must  cajole  the  man  who 
wishes  to  do  business  with  him  and  at  the  same  time, 
especially  when  his  customer's  credit  is  none  too  good, 
make  It  easy  for  him  to  get  goods  shipped;  and, 
hardest  of  all,  he  must  get  the  merchant's  attention 

139 


Tales  of  the  Road 

that  he  may  show  him  his  wares.  Get  a  merchant  to 
looking  at  your  goods  and  you  usually  sell  a  bill. 

In  the  smoking  room  of  a  Pullman  one  night  sat 
a  bunch  of  the  boys  who,  as  is  usual  with  them  when 
they  get  together,  were  telling  of  their  experiences. 
The  smoker  is  the  drummer's  club-room  when  he  is 
on  a  trip.  On  every  train  every  night  are  told  tales 
of  the  road  which,  if  they  were  put  in  type,  would 
make  a  book  of  compelling  interest.  The  life  of 
the  traveling  man  has  such  variety,  such  a  change 
of  scene,  that  a  great  deal  more  comes  into  it  than 
mere  buy  and  sell.  Yes,  on  this  night  of  which  I 
speak,  the  stories  told  were  about  tussles  that  my 
friends  had  had  to  get  business. 

As  the  train  rounded  a  sharp  curve,  one  of  the 
boys,  who  was  standing,  bumped  his  head  against  the 
door  post.  A  New  York  hat  man  who  saw  the 
"broken  bonnet,"  said,  "Your  cracked  cady  reminds 
me  of  one  time  when  I  sold  a  bill  of  goods  that 
pleased  me,  I  believe,  more  than  any  other  order  that 
I  ever  took.  I  was  over  in  the  mining  district  of 
Michigan.  That's  a  pretty  wide  open  country,  you 
know.  My  old  customer  had  quit  the  town.  He 
couldn't  make  a  'stick'  of  it  somehow.  I  had  been 
selling  him  exclusively  for  so  long  that  I  thought  I 
was  queered  with  every  other  merchant  in  the  town. 
But  the  season  after  my  customer  Hodges  left  there, 
much  to  my  surprise,  two  men  wrote  into  the  house 
saying  they  would  like  to  buy  my  goods.  My  stuff 

140 


Tales  of  the  Road 

had  always  given  Hodges'  customers  satisfaction. 
After  he  left,  his  old  customers  drifted  into  other 
stores  and  asked  for  my  brand.  Now,  if  you  can  only 
get  a  merchant's  customers  to  asking  for  a  certain 
brand  of  goods,  you  aren't  going  to  have  trouble  in 
doing  business  with  him.  This  is  where  the  whole- 
sale firm  that  sells  reliable  merchandise  wins  out  over 
the  one  that  does  a  cut-throat  business.  Good  stuff 
satisfies  and  it  builds  business. 

"Well,  when  I  went  into  this  town  I  thought  I 
would  have  easy  sailing  but  I  felt  a  little  taken  back 
when  I  walked  down  the  street  and  sized  up  the 
stores  of  the  merchants  who  wished  to  buy  my  goods. 
They  both  looked  to  me  like  tid  bits.  Both  of  them 
were  new  in  the  town,  one  of  them  having  moved 
into  Hodges'  old  starid.  I  said  to  myself  that  I 
didn't  wrish  to  do  business  with  either  one  of  these 
pikers.  Til  see  if  I  can't  go  over  and  square  myself 
with  Andrews,  the  biggest  man  in  town,'  I  said. 
'While  I've  never  tried  to  do  business  with  him,  he 
can't  have  anything  against  me.  I've  always  gone 
over  and  been  a  good  fellow  with  him,  so  I'll  see 
if  I  can't  get  him  lined  up.' 

"Three  or  four  more  of  the  boys  had  come  in  with 
me  on  the  same  train.  When  I  went  into  Andrews' 
store,  two  of  them  were  in  there.  Pretty  soon  after- 
wards I  heard  one  of  them  say :  'Well,  Andy,  as  you 
want  to  get  away  in  the  morning,  I'll  fall  in  after 
you  close  up.  It'll  suit  me  all  the  better  to  do  busi- 

141 


Tales  of  the  Road 

ness  with  you  tonight/    Andrews  spoke  up  and  said, 
'All  right,  eight  o'clock  goes.' 

"This  man  saw  that  I  had  come  in  to  see  him 
and,  having  made  his  engagement,  knew  enough  to 
get  out  of  the  way.  The  boys,  you  know,  especially 
the  old  timers,  are  mighty  good  about  this.  I  don't 
believe  the  outsiders  anyway  know  much  about  the 
fellowship  among  us. 

4 The  other  man  who  was  in  the  store  was  out 
on  his  first  trip.  He  was  selling  suspenders.  It  was 
then,  say,  half  past  five.  I  joshed  with  the  boys 
in  the  store  for  a  few  minutes.  Andrews,  meantime, 
had  gone  up  to  his  office  to  look  over  his  mail  and 
get  off  some  rush  letters.  The  new  man,  who  sold 
suspenders,  was  a  good  fellow  but  he  had  lots  to 
learn.  He  trailed  right  along  after  Andrews  as  if 
he  had  been  a  dog  led  by  a  string.  He  stood  around 
up  in  the  office  for  a  few  minutes  without  having  any- 
thing to  say.  Had  he  been  an  old-timer,  you  know, 
he  would  have  made  his  speech  and  then  moved  out 
of  the  way.  After  a  few  minutes  he  came  down  and 
said  to  me,  That  fellow's  a  tough  proposition.  I 
can't  get  hold  of  him.  I  can't  find  out  whether  he 
wants  to  look  at  my  goods  or  not.  He  joshes  with 
me  but  I  can't  get  him  down  to  say  that  he  will  look. 
I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  have  my  trunks 
brought  up  and  fool  with  him  or  not.' 

*  'Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  my  boy,'  said  I,  'if 
you  want  to  do  business,  get  your  stuff  up  and  dp 

142 


Tales  of  the  Road 

it  quickly.  If  he  doesn't  come  to  look  at  your  goods, 
bring  'em  in.  Bring  'em  in.  Go  after  him  that 
way.' 

"  'All  right,  I  guess  I  will,'  said  he,  and  out  he 
went. 

uAs  soon  as  Andrews  came  down  from  his  office, 
I  said  'Hello,'  but  before  I  could  put  in  a  word  about 
business,  in  came  a  customer  to  look  at  a  shirt.  Well, 
sir,  that  fellow  jawed  over  that  four-bit  shirt  for 
half  an  hour.  I'd  gladly  have  given  him  half  a 
dozen  dollar-and-a-half  shirts  if  he  would  only  get 
out  of  my  way  and  give  me  a  chance  to  talk  business. 
Just  about  the  time  that  Andrews  wrapped  up  the 
shirt,  back  came  the  new  man  again,  having  had  his 
trunks  brought  up  to  the  hotel.  I  knew  then  that 
my  cake  was  all  dough  so  I  skipped  out,  saying  I 
would  call  in  after  supper.  I  felt  then  that,  as  An- 
drews was  going  away  the  next  morning,  I  wouldn't 
get  a  chance  at  him  so,  being  in  the  town,  I  thought 
the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  go  over  and  pick  up  one 
of  the  other  fellows  who  was  anxious  to  buy  from  me. 

"I  went  over  to  see  the  man,  who  had  taken 
Hodges'  old  stand.  As  soon  as  I  went  in  he  said: 
'Yes,  I  want  some  goods.  I  have  just  started  in  here. 
I  haven't  much  in  the  store  but  I'm  doing  first  rate 
and  am  going  to  stock  up.  When  can  I  see  you? 
It  would  suit  me  a  good  deal  better  tonight  after 
eight  o'clock  than  any  other  time.  I  haven't  put  on 
a  clerk  yet  and  am  here  all  alone.  If  you  like,  we'll 

143 


Tales  of  the  Road 

get  right  at  it  and  take  sizes  on  what  stock  we  have. 
Then  you  can  get  your  supper  and  see  me  at  eight 
o'clock  and  I'll  be  ready  for  you.  I  want  to  buy  a 
pretty  fair  order.  I've  had  a  bully  good  hat  trade 
this  season.  I've  been  sending  mail  orders  into  your 
house — must  have  bought  over  four  hundred  dollars 
from  them  in  the  last  three  months.  I  s'pose  you  got 
credit  for  it  all  right.' 

"Well,  this  was  news  to  me.  The  house  hadn't 
written  me  anything  about  having  received  the  mail 
orders  and  I'll  say  right  here,  that  the  firm  that 
doesn't  keep  their  salesmen  fully  posted  about  what's 
going  on  in  his  territory  makes  a  great  big  mistake. 
If  I'd  known  that  this  man  had  been  buying  so  many 
goods,  I  wouldn't  have  overlooked  him.  As  it  was, 
I  came  very  near  passing  up  the  town.  And  I'll  tell 
you  another  thing :  A  man  never  wants  to  overlook 
what  may  seem  to  him  a  small  bet.  This  fellow 
gave  me  that  night  over  seven  hundred  dollars — a 
pretty  clean  bill  in  hats,  you  know,  and  has  made  me 
a  first-class  customer  and  we  have  become  good 
friends. 

"But  I'm  getting  a  little  ahead  of  my  story !  After 
supper,  that  night,  I  dropped  into  Andrews'  store 
again.  The  suspender  man  was  still  there.  He  had 
taken  my  tip  and  brought  in  some  of  his  samples. 
While  Andrews  was  over  at  the  drygoods  side  for  a 
few  minutes,  the  suspender  man  said  to  me : 

4  4I  don't  believe  I  can  sell  this  fellow.     He  says 

144 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  wants  to  buy  some  suspenders  but  that  mine  don't 
strike  him  somehow — says  they're  too  high  prices. 
I've  cut  a  $2.25  suspender  to  $1.90  but  that  doesn't 
seem  to  satisfy  him,  and  I'll  give  you  a  tip,  too — 
you've  been  so  kind  to  me — I  heard  him  say  to  his 
buyer  that  he  wasn't  going  to  look  you  over.  He 
said  to  let  you  come  around  a  few  times  and  leave 
some  of  your  money  in  the  town,  and  then  maybe 
he'd  do  business  with  you.  I  just  thought  I'd  tell 
you  this  so  that  you'd  know  how  you  stood  and  not 
lose  any  time  over  it.' 

"  'Thank  you  very  much,'  I  said.  Now,  this  sort 
of  thing,  you  know,  makes  you  whet  your  Barlow  on 
your  boot  leg.  I  did  thank  the  suspender  man  for 
the  tip  but  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  was  going  to 
do  business  with  Andrews  anyway.  You  know  there's 
lets  more  fun  shooting  quail  flying  in  the  brush  than 
to  pot-hunt  them  in  a  fence  corner. 

"After  I'd  sold  my  other  man  that  night,  I  sat 
down  in  the  office  of  the  hotel.  Andrews  was  still 
in  the  sample  room,  just  behind  the  office,  looking 
over  goods.  I  knew  he'd  have  to  pass  out  that  way, 
so  I  sat  down  to  wait  for  him.  It  was  getting  pretty 
late  but  I  knew  that  he  was  a  night-hawk  and  if 
he  got  interested  he  would  stay  up  until  midnight 
looking  at  goods.  After  a  little  bit  out  came  An- 
drews, his  buyer  and  my  other  traveling  man  friend. 
He  asked  me  up  with  them  to  have  cigars.  He  was 
wise.  Only  that  morning  we'd  had  to  double  up 

145 


Tales  of  the  Road 

together  in  a  sample  room  in  the  last  town.  We  were 
pretty  much  crowded  but  were  going  to  'divvy'  on 
the  space.  The  boys,  you  know,  are  mighty  good 
about  this  sort  of  thing;  but  when  I  went  down  the 
street  I  learned  that  my  man  was  out  of  town — I 
sold  only  one  man  in  that  place.  So  I  went  right  back 
up  to  the  sample  room  and  rolled  my  trunks  out  of 
his  way  so  that  my  friend  could  have  the  whole  thing 
to  himself.  There's  no  use  being  a  hog,  you  know. 
This  didn't  hurt  me  any,  and  it  was  as  much  on 
account  of  this  as  anything  else  that  I  was  asked  up  to 
take  a  cigar  where  I  could  get  in  a  word  with  An- 
drews. 

"As  the  clerk  was  passing  out  the  cigars,  Andrews 
took  off  his  hat.  As  he  dropped  it  on  the  cigar  case, 
he  rubbed  his  hand  over  his  head  and  said,  'Gee! 
but  I've  got  a  headache !' 

"I  picked  up  his  hat.  Quick  as  a  flash  I  saw  my 
chance.  It  was  from  my  competitor's  house.  I  could 
feel,  in  a  second,  that  it  was  a  poor  one.  Getting 
the  brim  between  my  fingers,  I  said  to  Andrews, 
'Why,  you  shouldn't  get  the  headache  by  wearing 
such  a  good  hat  as  this.  Why,  this  is  a  splendid 
piece  of  goods!' 

"With  this,  I  tore  a  slit  in  the  brim  as  easily  as  if 
it  had  been  blotting  paper.  Then  I  gave  the  brim 
a  few  more  turns,  ripping  it  clear  off  the  crown.  In 
a  minute  or  two  I  tore  up  the  brim  and  made  it  look 
like  black  pasteboard  checkers. 

14-6 


Tales  of  the  Road 

'The  cigars  are  on  me!5  said  Andrews,  as  every- 
body around  gave  him  the  laugh. 

"I  went  up  to  my  room  soon  leaving  Andrews  that 
night  to  wear  hb  brimless  hat.  But  I  knew  then 
that  I  could  get  his  attention  when  I  wanted  it,  next 
morning,  about  nine  o'clock, — for  my  train  and  his 
left  at  1 1  130.  This  would  give  plenty  of  time  to 
do  business  with  him  if  we  had  any  business  to  do, 
as  he  was  a  quick  buyer  when  you  got  him  interested. 
I  went  into  his  store  with  two  hats  in  my  hand.  They 
were  good  clear  Nutrias  and  just  the  size  that  An- 
drews wore.  I'd  found  this  out  by  looking  at  his 
hat  the  night  before. 

"  'I  don't  want  to  do  any  business  with  you,  An- 
drews,' said  I,  'but  I'm  not  such  a  bad  fellow,  you 
know,  and  I  want  to  square  up  things  with  you  a  lit- 
tle. Take  one  of  these.' 

"The  hats  were  'beauts.'  Andrews  went  to  the 
mirror  and  put  on  one  and  then  the  other.  He  finally 
said,  'I  guess  I'll  hang  onto  the  brown  one.  By 
Jove,  these  are  daisies,  old  man!' 

"  'Yes,'  said  I,  striking  as  quickly  as  a  rattlesnake, 
'and  there  are  lots  more  where  these  came  from ! 
Now,  look  here,  Andrews,  you  know  mighty  well  that 
my  line  of  stuff  is  a  lot  better  than  the  one  that  you're 
buying  from.  If  you  think  more  of  the  babies  of  the 
man  you  are  buying  your  hats  from  than  you  do  of 
your  own,  stay  right  here;  but  if  you  don't,  get  Jack, 
your  buyer,  and  come  up  with  me  right  now.  I'm 

H7 


Tales  of  the  Road 

going  out  on  the  1 1 130  train.'  This  line  of  talk  will 
knock  out  the  friendship  argument  when  nothing  else 
will. 

"  'Guess  I'll  go  you  one,  old  man/  said  Andrews. 

uHe  bought  a  good  sized  bill  and,  as  I  left  him 
on  the  train  where  I  changed  cars,  he  said,  'Well, 
good  luck  to  you.  I  guess  you'd  better  just  duplicate 
that  order  I  gave  you,  for  my  other  store.'  ' 

"That,"  spoke  up  one  of  the  boys,  "is  what  I  call 
salesmanship.  You  landed  the  man  that  didn't  want 
to  buy  your  goods.  The  new  man  let  him  slip  off 
his  hook  when  he  really  wanted  to  buy  suspenders." 

"I  once  landed  a  $3,400  bill  up  in  Wisconsin," 
said  a  clothing  man  as  we  lighted  fresh  cigars,  "in 
a  funny  way.  I'd  been  calling  on  an  old  German 
clothing  merchant  for  a  good  many  years,  but  I  could 
never  get  him  interested.  I  went  into  his  store  one 
morning  and  got  the  usual  stand-off.  I  asked  him 
if  he  wouldn't  come  over  and  just  look  at  my  goods, 
that  I  could  save  him  money  and  give  him  a  prettier 
line  of  patterns  and  neater  made  stuff  than  he  was 
buying. 

"  'Ach!  Dat's  de  sonk  dey  all  sink,'  said  the  old 
German.  'I'm  sotisfite  mit  de  line  I  haf.  Sell  'em 
eesy  und  maig  a  goot  brofit.  Vat's  de  use  uf  chanch- 
ing  anyvay,  alretty?' 

"I'd  been  up  against  this  argument  so  many  times 
with  him  that  I  knew  there  was  no  use  of  trying  to 
buck  up  against  it  any  more,  so  I  started  to  leave 

148 


IN  BIG   HEADLINES   I   READ,  "GREAT  FIRE  IN  CHICAGO." 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  store.  The  old  man,  although  he  turned  me 
down  every  time  I  went  there,  would  always  walk 
with  me  to  the  front  door  and  give  me  a  courteous 
farewell.  In  came  a  boy  with  a  Chicago  paper  just 
as  we  were  five  steps  from  the  door.  What  do  you 
suppose  stared  me  in  the  face?  In  big  head  lines 
I  read :  GREAT  FIRE  IN  CHICAGO  in  big  type. 
The  paper  also  stated  that  flames  were  spreading 
toward  my  house.  I  at  once  excused  myself  and  went 
down  to  the  telegraph  office  to  wire  my  house  exactly 
where  I  was  so  that  they  could  let  me  know  what 
to  do.  As  I  passed  to  the  operator  the  telegram  I 
wrote,  he  said,  Why,  Mr.  Leonard,  I've  just  sent 
a  boy  up  to  the  hotel  with  a  message  for  you.  There 
he  is!  Call  him  back!'  The  wire  was  from  the 
house  stating,  Tire  did  us  only  little  damage.  Keep 
right  on  as  if  nothing  had  happened.' 

"My  samples  were  all  opened  up  and  I  had  to  wait 
several  hours  for  a  train  anyway,  so  an  idea  struck 
me.  'I  believe  I'll  fake  a  telegram  and  see  if  I  can't 
work  my  old  German  friend  with  it.'  I  wrote  out 
a  message  to  myself,  'All  garments  on  the  second 
floor  are  steam  heated.  They  are  really  uninjured 
but  we  will  collect  insurance  on  them.  Sell  cheap.' 

"Armed  with  this  telegram  I  walked  into  the  old 
German's  store  again.  'Enny  noos?'  said  he. 

"  'Yes;  here's  a  telegram  I've  just  received,'  said 
I,  handing  over  the  fake  message. 

149 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  'Sdeam  heatet,'  said  the  old  man,  'Veil  dey  gan 
be  bresst  oud,  nicht?  Veil,  I  look  ad  your  goots.' 

uHe  dropped  in  right  after  dinner.  I  had  laid  out 
on  one  side  of  the  sample  room  a  line  of  second 
floor  goods. 

"Among  them  were  a  lot  of  old  frocks  that  the 
house  was  very  anxious  to  get  rid  of.  When  I  got 
back  to  the  old  man's  store,  he  was  pacing  the  floor 
waiting  for  me  to  come.  He  had  on  his  overcoat 
ready  to  go  with  me. 

"  'Veil,'  said  he,  before  giving  me  a  chance  to 
speak,  'I  go  right  down  mit  you.' 

"He  was  the  craziest  buyer  I  ever  saw.  It  didn't 
take  me  more  than  twenty  minutes  to  sell  the 
$3,400." 

"But  how  did  you  get  on  afterwards?"  asked  one 
of  the  boys. 

"Don't  speak  of  it,"  said  Leonard.  "The  joke 
was  so  good  that  I  gave  it  away  to  one  of  the  boys 
after  the  bill  had  been  shipped,  and  do  you  know, 
the  old  man  got  onto  me  and  returned  a  big  part  of 
the  bill.  Of  course,  you  know  I've  never  gone  near 
him  since.  Retribution,  I  suppose  I  That  cured  me 
of  sharp  tricks." 

"A  sharp  game  doesn't  work  out  very  well  when 
you  play  it  on  your  customer,"  spoke  up  one  of  the 
boys  who  sold  bonds,  "but  it's  all  right  to  mislead 
your  competitor  once  in  a  while,  especially  if  he  tries 
to  find  out  things  from  you  that  he  really  hasn't  any 

150 


Tales  of  the  Road 

business  to  know.  I  was  once  over  in  Indiana.  I  had 
on  me  a  pretty  good  line  of  six  per  cents.  They 
were  issued  by  a  well-to-do  little  town  out  West. 
You  know,  western  bonds  are  really  A-i  property, 
but  the  people  in  the  East  haven't  yet  got  their  eyes 
open  to  the  value  of  property  west  of  the  Rockies. 

"Well;  when  I  reached  this  town,  one  of  my 
friends  tipped  me  onto  one  of  my  competitors  who, 
he  said,  was  going  to  be  in  that  same  town  that  after- 
noon. There  were  three  prospective  customers  for 
us  and  we  were  both  in  the  habit  of  going  after  the 
same  people.  Two  of  them  were  bankers, — one  of 
them  was  pretty  long  winded ;  the  other  was  a  retired 
grain  dealer  who  lived  about  a  mile  out  of  town. 
He  was  the  man  I  really  wished  to  go  after.  His 
name  was  Reidy  and  he  was  quite  an  old  gentleman, 
always  looking  for  a  little  inside  on  everything.  I 
didn't  wish  to  waste  much  time  on  the  bankers  before 
I'd  taken  a  crack  at  the  old  man.  I  knew  he'd  just 
cashed  in  on  some  other  bonds  that  he  had  bought 
from  my  firm  and  that  he  was  probably  open  for  an- 
other deal.  I  merely  went  over  and  shook  hands 
with  the  bankers.  One  of  them — the  long  winded 
one — asked  me  if  I  had  a  certain  bond.  I  told  him 
I  didn't  think  I  had, — that  I'd  'phone  in  and  find  out. 
I  got  on  the  line  with  my  old  grain  dealer  friend 
and  he  said  he'd  be  in  town  right  after  dinner.  I 
would  have  gone  out  to  see  him  but  he  preferred 
doing  his  business  in  town.  By  this  time  I  knew 


Tales  of  the  Road 

my  competitor  would  reach  town  so  I  ate  dinner  early 
and  took  chances  on  his  still  being  in  the  dining 
room  when  Reidy  would  drive  in.  I  knew  that  my 
competitor,  if  he  got  into  town,  would  go  right  after 
the  old  gentleman  just  as  quickly  as  he  could. 

"After  dinner  I  sat  down  out  in  the  public  square 
smoking,  and  apparently  taking  the  world  at  ease, — 
but  I  was  fretting  inside  to  beat  the  band !  My  com- 
petitor saw  me  from  the  hotel  porch.  He  came  over 
and  shook  hands: — you  know  we're  always  ready  to 
cut  each  other's  throats  but  we  do  it  with  a  smile 
and  always  put  out  the  glad  hand. 

"  <Well,  Woody,'  said  he,  'you  seem  to  be  taking 
the  world  easy.  Business  must  have  been  good  this 
week.' 

"  'Oh,  fair,'  I  answered, — but  it  had  really  been 
rotten  for  several  days. 

"  'Come  and  eat,'  said  he. 

"  (No,  thanks,  I've  just  been  in.  I'll  see  you  after. 
I'll  finish  my  cigar.' 

"My  competitor  went  in  to  dinner.  About  the 
time  I  knew  he  was  getting  along  toward  pie,  I  began 
to  squirm.  I  lighted  two  or  three  matches  and  let 
them  go  out  before  I  fired  up  my  cigar.  Still  no 
Reidy  had  shown  up.  Pretty  soon  out  came  my  com- 
petitor over  into  the  park  where  I  was.  I  knew  that 
if  he  got  his  eyes  on  Reidy  I  would  have  to  scramble 
for  the  old  man's  coin.  So  I  managed  to  get  him 
seated  with  his  back  toward  the  direction  from  which 

152 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Reidy  would  come  to  town.  The  old  man  always 
drove  a  white  horse.  As  I  talked  to  my  competitor 
I  kept  looking  up  the  road — I  could  see  for  nearly 
half  a  mile — for  that  old  white  horse. 

"  'Well,  have  you  left  anything  in  town  for  me, 
Woody/  said  he  directly. 

"About  that  time  I  saw  the  old  man's  horse  jog- 
ging slowly  but  surely  toward  us. 

"  Well,  now,  I'll  tell  you,'  I  said  to  him,  'I  be- 
lieve that  if  you'll  go  over  to  the  bank  just  around 
the  corner,  you  can  do  some  business.  I  was  in  there 
this  morning  and  they  asked  me  for  a  certain  kind 
of  paper  that  I  haven't  any  left  of.  If  you  can 
scare  up  something  of  that  kind,  I  think  you  can  do 
some  business  with  them  there.  I'll  take  you  over, 
if  you  like.' 

"I  didn't  want  him  to  turn  around  because  I  knew 
that  he,  too,  would  see  that  old  white  horse  and 
that  I'd  never  get  him  to  budge  an  inch  until  he  had 
spoken  with  Reidy  if  he  did, — and  the  old  horse  was 
coming  trot !  trot !  trot ! — closer  every  minute. 

"  Well,  say,  that'll  be  good  of  you.  I  hate  to 
leave  you  out  here  all  alone  resting  and  doing  noth- 
ing,' said  he. 

u  4Oh,  that's  all  right.  Come  on,' — and  with  this 
I  took  him  by  the  arm  in  a  very  friendly  manner, 
keeping  his  back  toward  that  old  white  horse,  and 
walked  him  around  the  corner  to  the  bank  where 

153 


Tales  of  the  Road 

I  knew  that  he  would  be  out  of  sight  when  the  old 
man  reached  the  public  square. 

ujust  as  I  came  around  the  corner  after  leaving  my 
competitor  Richards  in  the  bank,  there  came  plodding 
along  the  old  man.  Luckily  he  went  down  about  a 
block  to  hitch  his  horse.  I  met  him  as  he  was  coming 
back  and  carried  him  up  to  my  room  in  the  hotel.  I 
laid  my  proposition  before  him  and  he  said: 

"  'Well,  that  looks  pretty  good  to  me,  but  I'd  like 
to  go  over  here  to  the  bank  and  talk  to  one  of  my 
friends  there  and  see  what  he  thinks  of  the  lay-out.' 

"  Which  bank?'  thought  I.  Well,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  it  was  the  other  bank.  'Very  well,'  I  said, 
Til  drop  over  there  myself  in  a  few  minutes  and 
have  the  papers  all  with  me.  We  can  fix  the  matter 
up  over  there.  I'm  sure  the  people  in  the  bank  will 
give  this  their  hearty  endorsement.' 

"As  the  old  man  walked  across  the  park,  two  or 
three  people  met  him  and  stopped  him.  My  heart 
was  thumping  away  because,  even  though  the  banker 
around  the  corner  was  long  winded,  it  was  about  time 
for  him  to  get  through  with  Richards;  but  the  old 
man  went  into  the  bank  all  right  before  Richards 
came  out.  Then  I  went  over  and  sat  down  in  the 
park.  In  a  few  minutes  Richards  came  over  where 
I  was. 

"  'Say,  that  was  a  good  tip  you  gave  me,  Woody, 
I  think  I'll  be  able  to  do  some  business  all  right.  I 
want  to  run  into  the  hotel  a  few  minutes,  if  you'll  ex- 

154 


'WELL,  WOODY."  SAID    HE,  'YOU  SEEM  TO   BE  TAKING  THE 
WORLD  PRETTY  EASY." 


Of     T 

VNIYERSIT 

or 


Tales  of  the  Road 

cuse  me,  and  get  into  my  grip.  Say;  but  you're  tak- 
ing things  easy !  I  wish  I  could  get  along  as  well  as 
you  do  without  worrying.' 

" Richards  left  me  and  went  into  the  hotel.  I 
wanted  to  get  him  off  as  quickly  as  I  could  because 
I  didn't  know  but  that,  any  minute,  the  old  gentleman 
would  come  out  of  the  bank  door.  I  hit  a  pretty 
lively  pace  to  get  in  where  he  was.  By  that  time, 
he  had  investigated  my  bonds  and  found  that  he 
wanted  them.  I  took  his  check  and  gave  him  a  re- 
ceipt for  it,  and  then  walked  with  him  over  to  where 
his  horse  was.  I  wanted  to  get  him  out  of  town  as 
quickly  as  I  could  and  keep  my  competitor  from  see- 
ing him,  if  possible. 

"Well,  sir,  everything  worked  smooth  as  a  charm. 
As  the  old  man's  buggy  was  just  crossing  the  bridge, 
out  came  Richards  from  the  hotel.  I  was  again  sit- 
ting in  the  park. 

4  'Heavens !  you're  taking  it  easy,'  said  he  to  me. 
'How  is  it  the  firm  can  afford  to  pay  you  to  go  around 
these  towns,  sit  in  parks  and  smoke  cigars,  Woody?' 

"  'Oh,  a  man  has  to  take  a  lay-off  once  in  a  while,' 
said  I. 

"I  went  over  to  the  bank  where  the  old  man  had 
been,  and  in  a  few  minutes  sold  them  some  bonds. 
Then  I  came  out  and  again  sat  down  in  the  park  a 
few  minutes,  waiting  for  Richards  to  get  through  so 
that  I  could  go  and  see  the  other  people  where  he  was 
dickering.  Pretty  soon  he  came  out  and  he  was  swear- 

155 


Tales  of  the  Road 

ing  mad.  He  said,  Tve  been  wrangling  with  these 
people  for  a  couple  of  hours  and  I  can't  get  them  into 
anything  to  save  my  life.  I  might  just  as  well  have 
been  out  here  with  you  all  this  time,  taking  the  world 
easy,  for  all  the  good  I've  done.' 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  go  over  and  take  a  crack  at 
them  again/  said  I. 

"  'All  right.  Go  ahead.  I  guess  Til  skip  the 
town,'  but  he  didn't  do  a  thing  but  get  on  the  trolley 
which  passed  out  by  old  man  Reidy's  house,  where  he 
was,  of  course,  too  late.  I  went  in  where  he  had  not 
been  able  to  do  business,  and,  now  that  my  mind  was 
easy,  I  took  plenty  of  time  and  made  a  nice  sale  in 
there,  too. 

"About  a  week  afterwards  I  met  Richards,  and  he 
said,  'Well,  Woody,  you've  got  one  coming  on  me. 
You  weren't  so  idle  as  I  thought  all  the  time  you  were 
out  there  in  the  park.'  ' 

"First  call  for  dinner  in  the  dining  car,"  drawled 
out  the  white-aproned  darkey  as  Woody  finished  his 
story. 

"Boys,  shall  we  all  go  in?"  said  Woody. 

"I'm  not  very  hungry,"  spoke  up  Leonard,  "I  took 
luncheon  pretty  late  today.  I  think  I'll  wait  a  little 
bit  unless  you  all  are  in  a  hurry." 

"You  know  what  you  were  telling  me  about  run- 
ning your  competitor  into  a  bank  around  the  corner," 
spoke  up  a  necktie  man,  "goes  to  show  this:  That 
you  must  have  a  man's  attention  before  you  can  do 


Tales  of  the  Road 

business  with  him.  I  really  believe  that  ypur  friend, 
Woody,  would  have  done  business  if  he  hadn't  struck 
his  man  at  the  busy  time  of  day.  I  know  that  I  can 
usually  do  business  if  I  get  a  man  when  his  mind 
is  easy  and  I  can  get  him  to  look  at  my  goods. 

"But  I  bumped  into  the  hardest  proposition  the 
other  day  that  I've  put  my  shoulder  against  for  a 
long  time.  There's  a  merchant  that  I  call  on,  over 
near  Duluth,  that  is  the  hardest  man  to  get  into  a 
sample  room  I  ever  saw.  I  have  been  calling  on  him 
for  several  seasons  but  I  couldn't  get  him  away  from 
the  store.  Once  he  had  a  clerk  that  stole  from  him 
and  after  he  got  onto  this  fellow  he  never  leaves  the 
store  unless  one  of  his  own  sons  is  right  there  to 
take  his  place.  Even  then,  he  doesn't  like  to  go  out, 
and  he  only  does  so  to  run  up  home  and  back  right 
quickly  for  a  bite  to  eat.  I  had  sold  him  a  few  little 
jags  by  lugging  stuff  in  and  was  getting  tired  of  this 
sort  of  business.  I  wanted  either  to  get  a  decent 
order  or  quit  him  cold.  It  is  all  very  good,  you 
know,  to  send  in  one  or  two  little  jags  from  a  new 
man,  but  the  house  kicks  and  thinks  you  are  n.  g. 
if  you  keep  on  piking  with  the  same  man. 

"This  time,  I  went  into  his  store  and  said  to  my- 
self, 'Well,  if  I  can't  get  this  old  codger  to  go  down 
to  my  sample  room,  I'm  not  going  to  do  any  busi- 
ness with  him  at  all.' 

"When  I  went  into  his  store  I  shook  hands  with 

157 


Tales  of  the  Road 

him  and  offered  him  a  cigar.  He  said,  'Veil,  I  vont 
smoke  dis  now.  I  lay  it  avay.' 

"If  there  is  anything  on  earth  that  makes  me  mad 
it  is  to  offer  a  cigar  to  a  merchant  or  a  clerk  who, 
in  truth,  doesn't  smoke,  and  have  him  put  it  aside  and 
hand  it  to  somebody  else  after  I  have  left  town;  but, 
you  know,  you  bump  into  that  kind  once  in  a  while. 

"The  old  man  was  back  in  the  office.  He  shook 
hands  pretty  friendly,  and  said,  'How's  peezness?' 

"  'Best  ever,'  said  I.  It's  always  a  good  thing  to 
be  cheerful.  All  traveling  men  who  go  around  the 
country  saying  that  business  is  poor  ought  to  be 
knocked  in  the  head.  Even  if  they  are  not  doing 
a  great  deal,  they  should  at  least  say,  even  in  the 
dullest  of  times,  that  business  might  be  a  'lot  worse.' 
It's  these  croakers  on  the  road  who  really  make  busi- 
ness dull  when  there  is  every  reason  for  it  to  be  good. 
I  never  kick  and  I  don't  think  any  up-to-date  man 
will. 

"Well,  sir,  when  the  old  man  had  asked  me  how 
business  was  and  I'd  told  him  that  it  was  strictly 
good,  I  went  right  square  at  him.  I  said:  'Now, 
look  here,  Brother  Mondheimer,  I  have  been  selling 
you  a  few  goods  right  along  and  you've  told  me  that 
they  were  satisfactory,  but  I  haven't  been  doing 
either  myself  or  you  justice.  I  want  you,  this  time, 
to  come  right  down  with  me  and  see  what  a  line  of 
goods  I  really  have.  My  stuff  is  strictly  swell.  The 
patterns  are  up-to-date  and  I've  styles  enough  to  line 

158 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  whole  side  of  your  house.  Now,  don't  let  me 
run  in  with  just  a  handful  of  samples  and  sell  you  a 
little  stuff,  but  come  down  and  give  me  a  square 
chance  at  a  decent  order.' 

"  'Dot's  all  ride,'  said  he,  'but  I  can't  get  avay. 
I  must  stay  hier.  Ven  cost'mers  com  in,  somebody 
must  be  hier  to  vait  on  'em.' 

"  'That's  all  right,'  said  I,  'but  all  your  clerks  are 
idle  now.  There  isn't  a  customer  in  the  store. 
Things  are  quiet  just  now.  Suppose  you  come  on 
down  with  me.' 

"  'No,  I  can't  do  dot,'  said  the  old  man.  'I'd  like 
to  but  I  can't.  Von't  you  breeng  op  a  leedle  stoff  ?' 

"I  didn't  answer  his  question  directly,  but  I  said, 
'Now,  look  here,  Brother  Mondheimer,  suppose  a 
man  were  to  come  into  your  store  and  want  to  buy 
a  good  suit  of  clothes.  How  much  profit  would  you 
make  ?' 

"  'Aboud  fife  tollars,'  said  he. 

'Well,  how  long  would  you,  yourself,  spend  on 
that  man,  trying  to  make  a  sale  with  him?' 

'Veil,  I  vood  nod  led  him  go  until  I  solt  him,' 
said  he. 

"  'All  right, — by  the  way — ',  said  I.  'Can  you 
give  me  two  tens  for  a  twenty  ?' 

"He  handed  me  out  two  ten  dollar  gold  pieces. 

"  'Here'  said  I,  slapping  down  one  of  the  slugs 
and  shoving  it  over  to  him,  'Here's  ten  dollars  for 
ten  minutes  of  your  time.  That's  yours  now, — take 

159 


Tales  of  the  Road 

it!  IVe  bought  your  time  and  I  dare  you  come 
down  to  my  sample  room.  If  you  do,  I'll  make  that 
ten  back  in  less  than  ten  minutes  and  you'll  stay  with 
me  an  hour  and  buy  a  decent  bill  of  goods.' 

"Well,  sir,  the  old  man  wouldn't  take  the  ten— 
but  he  did  get  his  hat  and  he's  been  an  easy  customer 
ever  since !" 

"Second  and  last  call  for  dinner,"  called  the  dining 
car  boy  again. 

"Guess  this  is  our  last  chance,"  spoke  up  one  of 
the  boys.  Then,  stretching  a  little,  we  washed  our 
hands  and  went  in  to  dinner. 


1 60 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TACTICS  IN  SELLING. 
II. 

AFTER  we  had  finished  dinner,  all  of  the  party 
came  back  to  our  "road  club  room,"  the 
smoker. 

uThe  house,"  said  the  furnishing  goods  man,  sail- 
ing on  our  old  tack  of  conversation,  "sometimes 
makes  it  hard  for  us,  you  know.  I  once  had  a  case 
like  this:  One  of  my  customers  down  in  New  Or- 
leans had  failed  on  me.  I  think  his  muhulla  ( failure) 
was  forced  upon  him.  Even  a  tricky  merchant  does 
not  bring  failure  upon  himself  if  business  is  good  and 
he  can  help  it,  because,  if  he  has  ever  been  through 
one,  he  knows  that  the  bust-up  does  him  a  great  deal 
more  harm  than  good.  It  makes  'credit'  hard  for 
him  after  that.  But,  you  find  lots  of  merchants  who, 
when  business  gets  dull,  and  they  must  fail,  will 
either  skin  their  creditors  completely  or  else  settle 
for  as  few  cents  on  the  dollar  as  possible. 

"Well,  I  had  a  man  in  market,  once,  when  I  was 
traveling  out  of  Philadelphia,  who  had  'settled'  for 
35  cents  on  the  dollar.  He  had  come  out  of  his 

161 


Tales  of  the  Road 

failure  with  enough  to  leave  him  able  to  go  into 
business  again,  and,  with  anything  like  fair  trade,  dis- 
count all  his  bills.  I  knew  the  season  was  a  fairly 
good  one  and  felt  quite  sure  that,  for  a  few  years 
anyway,  my  man  would  be  good.  What  was  lost  on 
him  was  lost,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it.  The  best 
way  to  play  even  was  on  the  profits  of  future  busi- 
ness. 

uBut  our  credit  man,  a  most  upright  gentleman, 
wasn't  particular  about  taking  up  the  account  again. 
However,  there  I  was  on  a  commission  basis!  I 
knew  the  man  would  pay  for  his  goods  and  that  it 
was  money  in  my  pocket — and  in  the  till  of  the  house 
— to  sell  it. 

"I  had  seen  my  man  at  the  hotel  the  evening  before 
and  he'd  said  he  would  be  around  the  next  morning 
about  ten  o'clock.  I  went  down  to  the  store  before 
that  time  and  talked  the  thing  over  with  the  credit 
man. 

1  'Don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  that 
fellow,'  he  said.  'He  skinned  us  once  and  it's  only 
a  matter  of  time  until  he'll  do  it  again.' 

"The  head  man  of  the  firm  came  by  about  that 
time  and  I  talked  it  over  with  him.  He  had  told 
me  only  the  day  before  that  he  had  some  'jobs'  he  was 
very  anxious  to  get  rid  of. 

'  'Now,'  said  I  to  him,  'I  believe  I  have  a  man 
from  New  Orleans  who  can  use  a  good  deal  of  that 
plunder  up  on  the  sixth  floor  if  you're  willing  to  sell 

162 


Tales  of  the  Road 

it  to  him.  He  uses  that  kind  of  "Drek"  and  is 
now  shaped  up  so  that  he'll  not  wish  for  more  than 
sixty  day  terms,  and  I'm  sure  he'd  be  able  to  pay 
for  it.  He's  just  failed,  you  know.' 

"Well,  let  him  have  it — let  him  have  it,'  said  the 
old  man.  'Anything  to  get  the  stuff  out  of  the  house. 
If  he  doesn't  pay  for  it  we  won't  lose  much.' 

"  'All  right,  if  you  both  say  so,  I'll  go  ahead  and 
sell  him.' 

"This  was  really  building  a  credit  on  'jobs,'  for  I 
believed  that  my  man  would  after  that  prove  a  faith- 
ful customer, — and  this  has  been  the  case  for  many 
years. 

"Well,  when  he  came  in,  I  took  him  up  to  the  'job' 
floor  and  sold  him  about  five  hundred  dollars.  This 
was  the  limit  that  the  credit  man  had  placed  on  the 
account.  Then  came  the  rub.  I  had  to  smooth  down 
my  customer  to  sixty  day  terms  and  yet  keep  him  in 
a  good  humor.  He  thought  a  great  deal  of  me — 
I  had  always  been  square  with  him — and  he  wasn't 
such  a  bad  fellow.  He  had  merely  done  what  many 
other  men  would  have  done  under  the  same  circum- 
stances. When  he  had  got  into  the  hole,  he  was 
going  to  climb  out  with  as  many  'rocks'  in  his  pocket 
as  he  could.  He  couldn't  pay  a  hundred  cents  and 
keep  doing  business,  and  it  was  just  as  much  disgrace 
to  settle  for  sixty  cents  on  the  dollar,  which  would 
leave  him  flat,  as  it  was  to  settle  for  thirty-five.  So 
he  argued ! 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"I  brought  him  up  to  the  credit  window  and  said 
to  the  credit  man — Gee !  I  had  to  be  diplomatic 
then — 'Now,  this  is  Mr.  Man  from  New  Orleans. 
You  know  that  cotton  has  been  pretty  low  for  the 
past  season  and  that  he  has  had  a  little,  misfortune 
that  often  comes  into  the  path  of  the  business  man. 
He,  you  also  know,  has  squared  this  with  everybody 
concerned  in  an  honorable  way, — although  on  ac- 
count of  the  dull  times  he  was  unable  to  make  as  large 
a  settlement  as  he  wished  to — isn't  that  the  case, 
Joe  ?'  said  I.  He  nodded. 

u  'Yes,  but  things  are  picking  up  with  me,  you 
know,'  said  he. 

"  'Yes;  so  they  are,'  said  I,  taking  up  the  thread, 
'cotton  is  advancing  and  times  are  going  to  be  pretty 
good  down  in  the  south  next  season.  Now,  what  I've 
done,'  said  I  to  the  credit  man,  as  if  I  had  never 
spoken  to  him  about  the  matetr  before,  'is  this :  Joe, 
here,  has  learned  a  lesson.  He  has  seen  the  folly, 
and  suffered  for  it,  of  buying  so  many  goods  so  far 
ahead.  What  he  aims  to  do  from  this  time  on  is 
to  run  a  strictly  cash  business,  and  to  buy  his  goods 
for  cash  or  on  very  short  terms.  We  have  picked  out 
five  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  goods — I've  closed 
them  pretty  cheap — and  you  shall  have  your  money 
for  this,  the  bill  fully  discounted,  within  sixty  days. 
Then  in  future,  Joe,  here,  does  not  wish  to  buy  any- 
thing from  you  or  anybody  else  that  he  cannot  pay 

164 


Tales  of  the  Road 

for  within  that  time.  One  bump  on  the  head  is 
enough,  eh,  Joe?' 

"  'Yes;  you  bet  your  life.     I've  learned  a  lesson.' 

"  'That'll  be  very  satisfactory,  sir,'  said  the  credit 
man,  and  everything  was  O.  K.  You  see,  I  had  put 
the  credit  man  in  the  position  of  making  short  terms 
and  I  had  tickled  Joe  and  given  him  something  that 
he  needed  very  badly  at  that  time — credit.  This  was 
about  the  smoothest  job  I  think  I  ever  did.  I  really 
don't  believe  that  either  the  credit  man  or  my  cus- 
tomer was  fully  onto  my  work.  Joe,  however,  has 
thanked  me  for  that  many  a  time  since.  He's  paid 
up  my  house  promptly  and  used  them  for  reference. 
They  could  only  tell  the  truth  in  the  matter,  that  he 
was  discounting  his  bills  with  them.  This  has  given 
him  credit  and  he's  doing  a  thriving  business  now, 
and  has  been  for  several  years.  He  is  getting  long 
time  again  from  other  houses." 

"Smooth  work  all  right,"  said  one  of  the  boys, 
touching  the  button  for  the  buffet  porter. 

"Once  in  a  while,"  said  the  book  man,  "you  have 
to  pull  the  wool  over  a  buyer's  eyes.  I  never  like 
to  do  anything  of  this  sort,  and  I  never  do  but  that 
I  tell  them  about  it  afterwards.  The  straight  path  is 
the  one  for  the  traveling  man  to  walk  in,  I  know; 
but  once,  with  one  of  my  men,  I  had  to  get  off  of 
the  pebbles  and  tread  on  the  grass  a  little. 

"We  really  sell  our  publications  for  less  than  any 
other  concern  in  the  country.  We  give  fifty  off, 


Tales  of  the  Road 

straight,  to  save  figuring,  while  many  others  give 
40-10-5,  which,  added  up,  makes  55,  but,  in  truth,  is 
less  than  fifty  straight.  Once,  in  Chicago,  I  fell  in  on 
a  department  store  man.  I  put  it  up  to  him  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  like  certain  new  books  that 
were  having  a  good  sale. 

"  'Yes,'  he  said,  'but  I  tell  you,  John  (he  knew 
me  pretty  well),  I  can't  stand  your  discounts.  You 
don't  let  me  make  enough  money.  You  only  give 
me  50  while  others  give  me  40-10-5.' 

"  'All  right,  I'll  sell  them  to  you  that  way,'  said  I. 
4We  won't  worry  about  it.' 

'Very  good  then,'  and  he  gave  me  his  order. 

"Next  season,  when  I  got  around  to  him,  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  the  special  terms  that  I  had  made 
this  man.  But  after  he  said  he  would  use  a  certain 
number  of  copies  of  a  book,  he  jogged  my  memory 
on  that  score  with  the  question: 

'What  sort  of  terms  are  you  going  to  give  me — 
the  same  I  had  last  year?' 

"  'No,  sir;  I  will  not,'  said  I.  'I'm  not  going  to 
do  business  with  you  that  way.' 

"  'Well,  if  you've  done  it  once,  why  don't  you  do 
it  again?  Other  people  do  it  right  along,  and  your 
house  is  still  in  business.  They  haven't  gone  broke.' 
'Yes,  you  bet  your  life  they're  still  in  business!' 
said  I,  'and  they'd  make  a  whole  lot  more  money 
than  they  do  now  if  they'd  do  business  on  the  terms 
that  you  ask.  Do  you  know  what  I  did?  You 

166 


Tales  of  the  Road 

wouldn't  let  me  have  things  my  way  and  be  square 
with  you,  so  I  skinned  you  on  that  little  express  order 
out  of  just  ninety  cents,  and  did  it  just  to  teach  you 
a  lesson  P  I  said,  planking  down  a  dollar.  'I  don't 
want  to  trim  you  too  close  to  the  bone.' 

;<  'Well,'  said  he,  after  I'd  figured  out  and  shown 
him  the  difference  between  50  off  straight  and  40- 
10-5,  'This  dollar  doesn't  belong  to  me.  Come  on, 
let's  spend  it.'  " 

"That's  pretty  good,"  chimed  in  the  shoe  man, 
who  was  sitting  on  a  camp  stool.  The  smoking  com- 
partment was  full.  "But  it  was  dangerous  play,  don't 
you  think?  Suppose  he'd  done  that  figuring  before 
you'd  got  around  and  shown  him  voluntarily  that  you 
skinned  him  and  why.  I  know  one  of  my  customers, 
at  any  rate,  who  would  have  turned  you  down  for 
good  on  this  sort  of  a  deal.  He  is  a  fair,  square, 
frank  man — most  merchants,  I  find,  are  that  way 
anyhow." 

"Yes;  you're  right,"  said  John. 

"I  got  at  the  man  I  speak  of  this  way,"  said  the 
shoe  man.  "I  had  called  on  him  many  times.  He 
was  such  a  thoroughbred  gentleman  and  treated  me 
so  courteously  that  I  could  never  press  matters  upon 
him.  There  are  merchants,  you  know,  of  this  kind. 
I'd  really  rather  have  a  man  spar  me  with  bare 
'knucks'  than  with  eight-ounce  pillows.  This  gives 
you  a  better  chance  to  land  a  knock-out  blow.  But 

167 


Tales  of  the  Road 

there  is  a  way  of  getting  at  every  merchant  in  the 
world.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  find  the  way. 

aAs  I  stood  talking  to  this  gentleman — it  was  out 
in  Seattle — in  came  a  Salvation  Army  girl  selling 
The  War  Cry.'  When  she  came  around  where  I 
was,  my  merchant  friend  gave  her  a  quarter  for  one, 
and  told  her  to  keep  the  change.  Do  you  know,  I 
sized  him  up  from  that.  It  showed  me  just  as  plain 
as  day  that  he  was  kind  hearted  and  it  struck  me, 
quick  as  a  flash,  that  my  play  was  generosity.  People 
somehow  who  are  free  at  heart  admire  this  trait  in 
others.  When  a  man  has  once  been  liberal  and  knows 
what  a  good  feeling  it  gives  him  on  the  inside,  to  do 
a  good  turn  for  some  poor  devil  that  needs  it,  he 
will  always  keep  it  up,  and  he  has  a  soft  spot  in  his 
heart  for  the  man  who  will  dig  up  for  charity. 

."I  didn't  plank  down  my  money  with  any  attempt 
to  make  a  show,  but  I  simply  slipped  a  dollar  into  the 
Salvation  Army  Captain's  hand,  and  said,  'Sister,  the 
War  Cry  is  worth  that  much  to  me.  I  always  read  it 
and  I'm  really  very  glad  you  brought  this  copy  around 
to  me.' 

"Now,  this  wasn't  altogether  play,  boys,  you  know. 
If  there  is  any  one  in  the  world  who  is  a  true  and 
literal  Christian,  it  is  the  girl  who  wears  the  Salvation 
Army  bonnet.  And  to  just  give  your  money  isn't 
always  the  thing.  A  little  kind  word  to  go  along 
with  it  multiplies  the  gift. 

"After  a  while,  when  I  got  around  to  it — I  talked 

168     • 


Tales  of  the  Road 

with  the  merchant  for  some  time  about  various  things 
— I  said,  as  politely  as  I  could:  'Now,  you  know 
your  affairs  a  great  deal  better  than  I  do  myself,  but 
it  is  barely  possible  that  I  might  have  something  in 
my  line  that  would  interest  you.  My  house  is  old 
established  and  they  do  business  in  a  straightforward 
manner.  If  you  can  spare  the  time,  I  should  be  very 
glad  indeed  to  have  you  see  what  I  am  carrying.  I 
assure  you  that  I  shall  not  bore  you  in  the  sample 
room.  I  never  do  this  because  I  don't  like  to  have 
any  one  feel  I'm  attempting  to  know  more  of  his 
affairs  than  he  does.' 

"  'If  such  were  the  case/  said  my  merchant  friend, 
'why,  then,  I  ought  to  sell  out  to  you.' 

"  'Then  you  are  right,'  said  I.  'Nothing  bothers 
me  more,  on  going  into  a  barber  shop  when  I'm  in  a 
rush  and  wish  nothing  but  a  shave,  than  to  have  the 
barber  insist  on  cutting  my  hair,  singing  it,  giving 
me  a  shampoo,  and  a  face  massage.' 

"  'Well,  I  don't  think  I'm  needing  anything  just 
now,'  said  my  merchant  friend.  'But  as  you're  here, 
I'll  run  down  and  see  you  right  after  luncheon.  'No,' 
said  he,  pulling  out  his  watch,  'I  might  as  well  go 
with  you  right  now.  It  is  half  past  eleven  and  that 
will  give  you  all  the  afternoon  free.' 

"  'Very  well,'  said  I,  'this  is  kind  of  you.  I  am 
at  your  service.' 

4'It  was  considerate  of  him  to  go  along  with  me 
right  then,  for  the  time  of  a  traveling  man  relatively 

169 


Tales  of  the  Road 

is  more  valuable  than  that  of  any  other  man  I  know 
of.  In  many  lines  he  must  make  his  living  in  four 
to  six  months  in  the  year.  Every  minute  of  daylight, 
when  he  is  on  the  road,  means  to  him  just  twice  that 
time  or  more ! 

"Do  you  know,  I  never  had  in  my  sample  room 
a  finer  man.  He  very  quickly  looked  over  what  I 
had  and  when  he  said  to  me,  'Do  you  know,  I'm 
really  glad  that  I've  come  down  with  you.  You  have 
some  things  that  strike  me.  I  hadn't  intended  putting 
in  any  more  goods  for  this  season,  but  here  are  a 
few  numbers  that  Fm  sure  I  can  use.  I  can't  give 
you  a  very  large  order.  However,  if  you're  willing 
to  take  what  I  wish,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  give  you 
a  small  one;  but  if  your  goods  turn  out  all  right,  and 
this  I  have  no  right  to  question,  we  shall  do  more 
business  in  future.' 

"I  took  the  order,  which  wasn't  such  a  small  one, 
either,  and  from  that  time  on  he  has  always  been  a 
pleasant  customer.  He  was  a  gentleman-merchant!" 

"He's  the  kind  that  always  gets  the  best  that's 
coming,"  broke  in  two  or  three  of  the  boys  at  once. 

"Yes,  you  bet  your  life!"  exclaimed  the  shoe  man. 
"If  a  man  wishes  to  get  the  best  I  have,  that  is  the 
way  I  like  him  to  come  at  me.  To  be  sure,  I  do 
a  one  price  business;  but  even  then,  you  know,  we  can 
all  do  a  man  a  good  turn  if  he  makes  us  have  an 
interest  in  his  business  by  treating  us  courteously. 

170 


Tales  of  the  Road 

We  can  serve  him  by  helping  him  select  the  best 
things  in  our  lines,  and  by  not  overloading  him." 

"Many's  the  way,"  said  the  dry  goods  man,  "that 
we  have  of  getting  a  man's  ear.  In  '96  I  was 
traveling  in  Western  Nebraska.  That  state,  you 
know,  is  Bryan's  home.  Things  were  mighty  hot  out 
there  in  September,  and  nearly  everybody  in  that  part 
of  the  country  was  for  him;  but  when  you  did  strike 
one  that  was  on  the  other  side,  he  was  there  good 
and  hard!  Yet,  most  of  those  who  were  against 
Bryan  by  the  time  September  rolled  around  were  be- 
ginning to  think  that  he  was  going  to  win  out.  I 
had  just  left  Chicago  and  had  been  attending  a  great 
many  Republican  political  meetings.  I  had  read  the 
Chicago  newspapers,  all  of  which  were  against  Bryan 
that  year,  and  thought  that  while  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  hurrah  going  on,  he  didn't  stand  a  ghost  of 
a  show,  and  I  was  willing  to  bet  my  money  on  it. 

"I  didn't  have  a  customer  in  this  town.  It  was 
Beaver  City.  You  know  how  the  stores  are  all  built 
around  three  sides  of  a  public  square.  I  was  out 
scouting  for  a  looker.  I  dropped  into  one  man's 
store — -he  was  a  Republican,  but  he  said  to  me, 
'Heavens  alive !  How  do  you  expect  me  to  buy  any 
goods  this  year?  Why,  Bryan's  going  to  be  elected 
sure's  your  born,  and  this  whole  country  is  going  to 
the  devil.  I'm  a  Republican  and  working  against 
-him  as  hard  as  I  can,  but  I'm  not  going  to  get  myself 
in  debt  and  go  broke  all  the  same. 

171 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  'The  only  man  in  this  town  who  thinks  Bryan 
isn't  going  to  win  is  old  man  Jarvis  across  the  way. 
If  he  keeps  on  buying  and  things  come  out  the  way  I 
think  they  will,  Til  have  one  less  competitor  when 
things  all  blow  over.' 

"I  looked  in  my  agency  book.  As  a  rule,  they're 
not  worth  a  rap  for  anything  except  to  give  the  names 
of  merchants  in  a  town  and  the  sort  of  business 
they're  in,  but  when  I  got  down  to  the  J's  I  saw 
that  Jarvis  was  rated  ten  to  twenty  thousand.  I  stuck 
the  book  in  my  pocket  and  made  straight  for  where 
I  saw  his  name  over  the  door. 

"First  thing  he  boned  me  about  was,  'Well,  how's 
the  election  going  in  Illinois  and  back  East?' 

"  'Oh,  Bryan  will  be  put  under  a  snow  bank  so 
deep  he'll  never  get  out,'  said  I,  'when  November 
gets  here.' 

'  'Good !'  said  he.  'You're  the  first  man  I've  seen 
for  a  month  who's  agreed  with  me.  I  don't  think 
he'll  run  one,  two,  three.  These  fellows  out  here 
in  this  country  are  all  crazy  because  Bryan's  come 
from  this  state;  and  a  few  hayseed  Populists  who've 
always  been  Republican  heretofore  are  going  to  vote 
for  him.  Shucks !  They  don't  amount  to  anything. 
It's  the  East  that  settles  an  election,  and  the  working 
man.  Why,  they're  not  going  to  see  this  country 
go  to  the  devil  because  a  few  of  these  crazy  Pops  out 
here  are  going  to  vote  the  Democratic  ticket !' 

"The  druggist  from  next  door,  who  overheard  the 

172 


Tales  of  the  Road 

old  man,  spoke  up  hotly  and  said,  'Well,  I'm  one  of 
them  crazy  Pops  you're  talking  about.  You  haven't 
any  money  that  says  Bryan's  goin'  to  lose,  have  you?' 

"  'Well,  I'm  not  a  betting  man,'  said  Jarvis,  'but 
if  I  was,  I'd  put  up  my  store  against  yours, — the 
building  and  all  against  your  stock.' 

"  'Well,  I  wish  you  were  a  betting  man,'  said  the 
druggist.  'You'd  better  either  put  up  or  shut  up. 
I'll  jest  bet  you  ten  dollars  even  that  Bryan  does 


win.' 


'  Til  take  that  bet,  my  friend,'  said  I,  knowing 
that  the  effect  of  the  wager  on  Jarvis  would  be  worth 
more  than  the  bet  itself.  I  reached  for  my  roll  of 
expense  money — I  had  about  two  hundred  dollars  on 
me — and  slipped  out  a  'tenner.'  The  druggist  went 
in  next  door  and  got  his  money.  The  old  man  held 
the  stakes. 

"I  was  the  only  man  who'd  been  in  that  town  for 
a  long  time  who  was  willing  to  bet  on  McKinley,  and 
pretty  soon  a  dozen  fellows  were  after  me.  In  about 
twenty  minutes  I  had  put  up  all  I  had,  and  went  over 
to  the  bank  and  drew  a  couple  of  hundred  more.  I 
drew  it  on  personal  account  as  I  had  plenty  of  money 
coming  to  me  from  the  firm.  Soon  a  couple  of  fel- 
lows came  in  who  wanted  to  put  up  a  hundred  each. 
I  covered  their  piles,  went  back  to  the  bank  and  made 
another  draft — in  all,  I  planked  up  five  hundred  dol- 
lars before  leaving  town.  Jarvis  was  my  stake 
holder. 

173 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  'Say,'  said  he,  'young  fellow,  I've  never  done  any 
business  with  you,  but,  by  Heavens !  I  like  your  pluck, 
and  I'm  going  right  over  to  your  sample  room 
whether  you  ask  me  to  or  not  and  give  you  an  order. 
This  is  the  best  time  for  me  to  buy  goods.  All  these 
other  fellows  around  here  are  croaking  about  the 
election  and  they're  not  going  to  have  anything  to  sell 
these  people.  Shoes  are  going  to  wear  out  and  the 
sun  is  going  to  fade  calico,  Bryan  or  no  Bryan!  I 
want  some  goods  on  my  shelves.  Come  on,  let's  go 
now  before  it  gets  dark!' 

"I  never  sold  a  bill  so  easy  in  my  life.  The  old 
man  would  pick  up  a  bundle  of  sample  cards  and 
say,  'Here,  you  send  me  about  what  you  think  I  ought 
to  have  out  of  this  lot,'  and  while  I  was  writing  down 
the  items,  he  would  talk  politics.  I  sold  him  a 
nailer." 

"Well,  you  had  pretty  good  luck  in  that  town," 
spoke  up  one  of  the  boys,  uto  get  a  good  bill  arid 
also  win  five  hundred  dollars." 

"Didn't  win  it,  though,"  said  the  dry  goods  man. 

"Well,  how's  that?  Didn't  McKinley  win  the 
election?  You  were  betting  on  him." 

"Yes,  but  I  got  back  to  Chicago  about  the  time 
that  Bryan  struck  there.  I  went  down  to  the  old 
shack  on  the  lake  front  where  the  Post  Office  now  is, 
and  heard  Bryan  speak  to  the  business  men.  It 
looked  to  me  like  the  whole  house  was  with  him.  I 
heard  a  dozen  men  around  where  I  sat  say,  after  the 

174 


Tales  of  the  Road 

speech  was  over,  that  they  had  intended  to  vote 
against  him,  but  that  they  were  sure  going  to  vote  for 
Bryan.  That  same  day  I  hedged  on  my  five  hun- 
dred." 

"Well,  you  got  a  good  customer  out  cf  the  deal' 
anyhow." 

"Yes,  I  did;  but  I  thought  I'd  lost  him.  After 
the  election  he  sent  me  the  thousand  and  I  went  down 
to  see  him.  You  know  I  voted  for  Bryan." 

"Changed  your  mind,  did  you?" 

"Change?  Did  you  ever  hear  Bryan  speak? 
When  I  met  the  old  man  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  it, 
and  said,  Tm  mighty  sorry  to  tell  you,  but  I  voted 
for  Bryan.' 

"  Well,  that's  all  right,'  he  said.     'So  did  I.1 


s 


CHAPTER  X. 

TACTICS  IN  SELLING. 

III. 
GETTING  A  MERCHANT'S  ATTENTION. 

EVEN  AND  NINE,"  said  the  porter,  poking  his 
head  into  the  Pullman  smoker,  "are  all  made 
down." 

With  this,  a  couple  of  the  boys  bade  us  goodnight 
and  turned  in,  but  soon  two  more  drifted  in  and 
took  their  places. 

"Getting  a  merchant's  attention,"  said  the  furnish- 
ing goods  man,  "is  the  main  thing.  You  may  get 
a  man  to  answer  your  questions  in  a  sort  of  a  way 
but  you  really  do  not  have  his  attention  always  when 
he  talks  to  you.  You  would  better  not  call  on  a 
man  at  all  than  go  at  him  in  a  listless  sort  of  a  way. 
This  is  where  the  old  timer  has  the  bulge  over  the 
new  man.  I  once  knew  a  man  who  had  been  a  suc- 
cessful clerk  for  many  years  who  started  on  the  road 
with  a  line  of  pants.  He  had  worked  for  one  of  my 
old  customers.  I  chanced  to  meet  him,  when  I  was 
starting  on  my  trip,  at  the  very  time  when  he  was 
making  his  maiden  effort  at  selling  a  bill  to  the  man 


Tales  of  the  Road 

for  whom  he  had  been  working.  Of  course  this  was 
a  push-over  for  him  because  his  old  employer  gave 
him  an  order  as  a  compliment. 

"Well,  sir,  when  that  fellow  learned  that  I  was 
going  West — this  was  on  the  Northern  Pacific — he 
hung  right  on  to  me  and  said  he  would  like  to  go 
along.  Of  course,  I  told  him  I  should  be  very  glad 
to  have  him  do  so,  and  that  I  would  do  for  him 
whatever  I  could.  But  here  he  made  a  mistake. 
When  a  man  starts  out  on  the  road  he  must  paddle 
his  own  canoe.  It  is  about  as  much  as  his  friend 
can  do  to  sell  his  own  line  of  goods,  much  less  to  put 
in  a  boost  for  somebody  else.  And,  furthermore,  a 
man  who  takes  a  young  chick  under  his  wing  will 
often  cut  off  some  of  his  own  feed.  Still,  this  fellow 
had  always  been  very  friendly  with  me  and  I  told 
him,  'Why,  to  be  sure,  Henry;  come  right  along 
with  me.' 

"In  the  second  and  third  towns  that  we  made,  he 
picked  up  a  couple  of  small  bills  that  just  about  paid 
his  expenses.  He  was  just  beginning  to  find  that  the 
road  was  not  such  an  easy  path  to  travel  as,  in  his. 
own  mind,  he  had  cracked  it  up  to  be. 

"The  next  town  we  struck  was  Bismarck,  North 
Dakota.  We  got  in  there  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  It  was  Thanksgiving  Day.  To  be  sure, 
I  went  to  bed  and  had  a  good  sleep.  A  man  must 
always  feel  fresh,  you  know,  if  he  expects  to  do 
any  work. 

177 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  before  I  breakfasted, 
opened  up,  and  started  across  the  street.  My  old 
customer  had  burned  out  there  and  I,  too,  had  to  go 
out  and  rustle  some  man.  Just  as  I  started  over 
toward  town,  I  met  my  German  friend  Henry  coming 
back.  His  face  looked  like  a  full  moon  shining 
through  a  cloud.  I  could  see  that  there  was  trouble 
on  his  mind. 

"  'Well,  Henry,  how  goes  it?'  said  I. 

"  'Id  don't  go  so  goot,'  said  he.  'But  vat  can  a 
man  expect  on  Danksgifing?  I  vent  to  see  von  man 
and  he  said,  "I  haf  an  olt  house  dat  alvays  dreats 
me  right,  so  vat's  de  use  of  chanching?"  Veil,  vat 
archument  could  I  make  against  dot?  I  vent  in  to 
see  anodder  man  and  he  said,  "I  haf  an  olt  friend  dot 
I  buy  from,"  and  vat  archument  could  I  make  against 
dot?  I  vent  in  to  see  still  anodder,  and  he  said,  "I 
haf  just  bought,"  so,  vat  archument  could  I  make 
against  dot?  The  next  man  I  vent  to  see  said,  "Mein 
Gott,  man;  don'd  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  rest  von 
day  in  de  year?  So  I  t'ought  dere  vas  no  use  fool- 
ing mit  him,  so  I  t'ink  I  vill  pack  op  and  eat  a  goot 
dinner  and  take  a  goot  nap  and  go  vest  again  in  de 
morning.' 

"  'All  right,  Henry,'  said  I;  'but  I  guess  I'll  go 
over  and  try  my  luck.' 

"The  first  man  that  I  went  to  see  was  the  one 
who  had  said  to  my  friend  Henry  that  he  thought  he 
ought  to  have  one  day  in  the  year  to  rest.  He  was 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  biggest  merchant  in  the  town  in  my  line.  When 
I  reached  his  store  he  was  putting  the  key  in  the  door 
to  lock  up  and  go  home  for  his  Thanksgiving  dinner. 

"I  couldn't  talk  to  him  out  there  in  the  cold — we 
were  strangers — so  I  said  to  him,  'I  should  like  to  buy 
a  couple  of  collars  if  you  please.'  He  sold  me  the 
collars  and  then,  just  for  a  bluff,  I  made  out  that 
mine  was  hurting  me  and  took  a  few  minutes  to  put 
on  another  one.  I  didn't  say  anything  about  what 
my  business  was  and  the  merchant,  in  order  to  have 
something  to  say,  asked,  'Are  you  &  stranger  in 
town  ?' 

"  'Yes,  sir,'  said  I,  'I  am.  But  I  hope  that  I  shall 
not  be  very  much  longer.  I  am  out  looking  for  a 
location.' 

"  'You  are  a  physician,  then?'  said  the  merchant. 

"'Yes,  sir, — in  a  way,'  said  I;  'but  I  treat  dis- 
eases in  rather  a  peculiar  way,  I  fancy.  I  believe 
in  going  down  to  the  cause  of  diseases  and  treating 
the  cause  rather  than  the  disease  itself.  My  specialty 
is  the  eye.  Now,  you  see,  if  the  eye  looks  at  bright, 
sparkling  snow,  it  is  strained;  but  if  it  looks  at  a 
green  pasture,  that  color  rests  it.  In  fact,  if  the  eye 
looks  upon  anything  that  is  not  pleasing  to  it,  it  does 
it  an  injury.  Now,  my  way  of  getting  down  to  the 
root  of  all  this  eye  trouble  is  to  place  before  it  things 
that  are  pleasing  to  look  upon,  and  in  this  way,  make 
eye  salves  and  things  of  that  kind  unnecessary.  In 
just  a  word/  said  I  (I  had  his  attention  completely), 

179 


Tales  of  the  Road 

'I  am  selling  the  prettiest,  nobbiest,  most  up-to-date 
line  of  furnishing  goods  there  is  on  the  road.  They 
are  so  attractive  that  they  are  good  for  sore  eyes. 
Now,  the  only  way  I  can  back  up  this  statement  is 
by  showing  you  what  I  have.  When  will  it  suit  you 
to  look  at  them?  The  location  that  I  am  looking 
for  is  a  location  for  my  goods  right  here  on  your 
shelves/ 

"Well,  sir;  do  you  know,  that  merchant  really 
came  down  to  my  sample  room  on  Thanksgiving  Day 
— he  hardly  took  time  to  eat  his  dinner — and  I  sold 
him,. 

"I  didn't  see  any  more  of  my  friend  Henry  until 
the  next  morning.  The  train  was  late  and  left  about 
seven  o'clock. 

4 Veil,  what  luck  yesterday?'  said  Henry. 

'"As  he  came  up  to  me  in  the  train  where  I  Was 
sitting  with  a  friend,  I  said,  'Well,  I  sold  a  bill.' 

"'Who  bought  of  you?' 

"  'The  clothing  man  here.' 

"  Tell,  dot's  de  feller,'  said  Henry,  'dot  told  me 
he  vas  going  to  haf  von  day  in  de  year  for  his  family. 
And  you  solt  him  ?  Veil,  how  did  you  do  id  ?' 

"I  briefly  told  Henry  of  my  experience. 

"  'Veil,  dot  vas  goot,'  said  he. 

"My  advance  agent  friend,  who  had  sat  beside 
me — Henry  had  fallen  in  with  us  in  our  double  seat 
— said  to  Henry,  'Now,  that's  a  good  line  of  argu- 
ment. Why  don't  you  use  that  sometime?'  A 

180 


'YOU'D  BETTER  WRITE  THAT  DOWN  WITH   A  PENCIL.' 
SAID  HENRY. 


Tales  of  the  Road 

twinkle  came  into  my  theatrical  friend's  eye  when 
Henry  did,  in  fact,  ask  my  permission  to  use  this 
line  of  talk.  I  told  Henry,  'Why,  sure,  go  on  and  use 
that  argument  anywhere  you  want  to.  I  shall  not 
use  it  again  because  in  every  town  that  I  shall  strike, 
from  this  time  on,  I  have  an  old  established  customer. 
I  have  no  use  for  that  argument.  Just  go  and  use  it.' 

"  ' You'd  better  write  that  down  with  a  pencil,  Hen- 
ry,' said  the  advance  agent — Stanley  was  his  name. 

u  'No,  dere's  no  use  ov  writing  dot  down,'  said 
Henry.  'Dot  archument  vas  so  clear  dot  I  ha f  it  in 
my  headt!' 

"But,  sure  enough,  Henry  took  out  his  lead  pencil 
and  jotted  down  the  points  in  the  back  of  his  order 
book.  In  the  next  town  we  struck,  one  of  the  mer- 
chants was  a  gruff  old  Tartar.  He  was  the  first  man 
that  Henry  lit  onto. 

"Now,  an  old  merchant  can  size  up  a  traveling  man 
very  soon  after  he  enters  the  door.  The  shoeman 
will  go  over  to  where  the  shoes  are  kept ;  the  hat  man 
will  turn  his  face  toward  the  hat  case ;  the  furnishing 
goods  man  will  size  up  the  display  of  neckwear;  in 
fact,  a  merchant  once  told  me  that  he  could  even  tell 
the  difference  between  a  clothing  man  and  a  pants 
man.  A  clothing  man  will  walk  up  to  a  table  and  run 
his  hands  over  the  coats  while  a  pants  man  will  always 
finger  the  trousers  to  a  suit. 

"Well,  sir,  when  Henry  walked  into  this  gruff  old 
merchant's  store,  he  found  him  busy  waiting  on  a  cus- 

181 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tomer  so  up  he  marched  to  a  clothing  table  and  began 
to  feel  of  a  pile  of  pants.  After  the  customer  went 
out  he  went  up  to  the  old  man  and  said  to  him,  'Goot 
morning,  sir.  I  am  a  physician,  sir,  and  I  am  looking 
for  a  legation — * 

'You  are  no  such  a  thing/  said  the  old 

man.     'You  are  selling  pants.' 

"Henry  told  me  of  this  experience  when  he  came 
back  to  the  hotel  and  he  was  so  broken  hearted  that 
he  almost  felt  like  going  back  home.  In  fact,  he 
didn't  last  more  than  about  three  weeks.  He  had 
started  too  late  in  life  to  learn  the  arts  of  the  traveling 


man." 


uYou  bet,"  said  the  wall  paper  man  who  had  heard 
this  story.  "Attention  is  the  whole  cheese.  I  know 
I  once  tried  my  hardest  to  get  hold  of  an  old  Irish- 
man down  in  Texas.  He  was  a  jolly  old  chap  but 
I  couldn't  get  next.  There  wasn't  any  sample  room 
in  the  town  and  if  I  showed  my  goods  to  any  one,  I 
would  have  to  get  his  consent  to  let  me  bring  my  stuff 
into  his  store.  When  I  struck  old  Murphy  to  let  me 
bring  my  goods  in,  he  gave  me  a  stand-off  so  hard 
that  another  one  of  the  boys  who  was  in  the  store 
gave  me  the  laugh.  This  riled  me  a  little  and  I  said 
to  my  friend  who  thought  he  had  the  joke  on  me,  'I 
am  going  to  sell  that  old  duck  just  the  same.'  Til 
bet  a  new  hat  you  don't,'  said  he.  Something  flashed 
across  me  somehow  or  other.  I  got  bold  and  I  said, 
'I'll  just  take  that  bet.' 

182 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"I  had  to  wait  in  town  anyway  for  several  hours 
so  that  I  couldn't  get  out  until  after  supper.  So 
I  went  up  to  the  hotel  for  dinner.  That  afternoon 
I  went  back  to  Murphy's  store,  pulled  out  a  cigar 
case  and,  passing  it  over  to  the  old  gentleman,  said, 
'Take  one,  neighbor.  These  are  out  of  my  private 
box.'  It  was  really  a  good  cigar  and  the  old  man,  giv- 
ing me  a  little  blarney,  said,  'Surre,  that  cigare  is  a 
birrd.'  Tm  glad  you  like  it,'  said  I.  'I  have  those 
sent  me  from  Chicago,  a  fresh  box  every  week.  If  you 
like  it  so  well,  here,  take  a  couple  more.  I  have  lots 
of  them  in  my  grip.'  I  laid  a  couple  on  the  old  man's 
desk  and  he  didn't  object. 

"  'Now,  Mr.  Murphy,'  said  I,  'I  know  you  don't 
wish  to  look  at  any  of  my  goods  whatsoever,  and  I'm 
not  the  man  to  ask  you  the  second  time.  In  fact,  I  am 
really  glad  you  don't  wish  to  buy  some  goods  from 
me  because  it  gives  me  a  chance  to  run  through  my 
samples.  I've  been  aiming  to  do  some  work  on  them 
for  several  days  but  really  haven't  had  the  time — I've 
been  so  busy.  But,  as  there's  nobody  else  here  in  the 
town  that  I  care  to  see  (a  mild  dose  of  "smoosh," 
given  at  the  right  time  and  in  the  right  way,  never 
does  any  harm,  you  know)  and  as  there's  no  sample 
room  here  I'm  sure  you'll  allow  me  to  have  my  trunk 
thrown  in  your  store  where  I  shall  not  be  in  your 
way.  I  wish  to  rid  myself  of  "outs." 

'  'Surre,  me  b'y;  surre  me  b'y,'  said  the  old  man. 
'Toike  all  the  room  you  will  but  ye  know  Oime  not 

183 


Tales  of  the  Road 

for  lookin'  at  your  goods.     Oime  waitin'  fer  a  friend, 
ye  know.' 

"  'Very  well,  thank  you;  I  promise  you  faithfully, 
Mr.  Murphy,  that  I'll  not  show  you  any  goods.  I 
merely  wish  to  get  rid  of  my  "tear-outs"  and  straight- 
en up  my  line.' 

u\Vhen  the  drayman  dumped  my  trunk  into  the 
back  end  of  the  store,  I  opened  up  on  the  counter  and 
tore  off  several  'outs.'  I  let  my  samples  lie  there  and 
went  up  the  street,  but  came  back  several  times  and 
peeped  into  the  front  window  to  see  what  the  old  man 
was  doing.  I  did  this  three  or  four  times  and  finally 
I  saw  him  and  one  of  the  clerks  back  where  my  sam- 
ples were,  fingering  them  over. 

"Then  I  went  around  to  the  back  door,  which  was 
near  where  my  samples  were,  marched  right  in  and 
caught  the  old  man  in  the  act." 

uSell  him?"  spoke  up  one  of  the  boys. 

"Sure,"  said  the  wall  paper  man,  "and  I  made  the 
man  who  had  lost  the  hat  come  down  and  buy  one  for 
me  from  the  old  Irishman." 

"Well,  that  was  a  clever  sale,"  said  the  hat  man, 
"but  you  have,  you  know,  as  much  trouble  sometimes 
holding  an  old  customer  in  line  as  you  do  in  selling  a 
new  one.  For  my  own  part,  whenever  a  customer  gets 
clear  off  the  hook,  I  let  him  swim.  You  have  a  great 
deal  better  luck  casting  your  fly  for  new  fish  than  you 
do  in  throwing  your  bait  for  one  that  has  got  away 
from  you.  My  rule  is,  when  a  man  is  gone — let  him 

184 


Tales  of  the  Road 

go.  But,  as  long  as  I  have  him  on  the  hook,  I  am 
going  to  play  him. 

"When  I  was  down  in  New  Orleans  a  few  seasons 
ago,  one  of  my  old  customers  said,  'Look  here,  I  don't 
see  any  use  of  buying  goods  from  you.  I  can  buy 
them  right  home  just  as  cheaply  as  you  sell  them  to 
me,  and  save  the  freight.  This  freight  item  amounts 
to  a  good  deal  in  the  course  of  a  year.  See,  here  is  a 
stiff  hat  that  I  buy  for  twenty-four  dollars  a  dozen 
that  is  just  as  good  as  the  one  that  you  are  selling  me 
for  the  same  money.  Look  at  it.'  He  passed  it  over 
to  me.  I  rubbed  my  hand  over  the  crown  and  quickly 
I  rapped  the  derby  over  my  fist  knocking  the  crown 
clean  off  it.  I  threw  the  rim  onto  the  floor  and  didn't 
say  a  word.  This  play  cost  me  a  new  hat  but  it  was 
the  best  way  I  could  answer  my  customer's  argument. 
After  that,  my  customer  was  as  gentle  as  a  dove.  He 
afterwards  admitted  that  he  liked  my  goods  better 
but  that  he  was  trying  to  work  me  for  the  difference  in 
freight." 

uThe  clerk  can  always  give  you  a  good  many 
straight  tips,"  spoke  up  one  of  the  boys. 

"Yes,  and  you  bet  your  life  he  does  his  best  to 
queer  you  once  in  a  while,  too!"  said  the  clothing 
man.  "I  know  I  had  a  tough  tussle  with  one  not  a 
great  while  ago  down  in  Pittsburg.  Last  season  I 
placed  a  small  bunch  of  stuff  in  a  big  store  there.  I 
had  been  late  in  getting  around  but  the  merchant 
liked  my  samples  and  told  me  that  if  the  goods  deliv- 


Tales  of  the  Road 

ered  turned  out  all  right  he  would  give  me  good  busi- 
ness this  season. 

"Now,  my  house  delivers  right  up  to  sample.  A 
great  many  houses  do  not,  and  so  merchants  go  not 
on  the  samples  they  look  at  but  according  to  the  goods 
delivered  to  them.  It  is  the  house  that  delivers  good 
merchandise  that  holds  its  business,  not  the  one  that 
shows  bright  samples  on  the  road  and  ships  poor  stuff. 

"I  went  up  to  my  man's  store — this  was  just  a  few 
weeks  ago — and  asked  him  to  come  over  with  me. 

"  'My  head  clothing  man,'  said  my  customer,  'does 
not  like  your  stuff.  I  might  as  well  be  frank  with 
you  about  it.'  'What  objection  has  he  to  it?'  said  I. 
'He  says  they  don't  fit.  He  says  the  trimmings  and 
everything  are  all  right  and  I  wish  they  did  fit  be- 
cause your  prices  look  cheap  to  me.'  'Well,  let's 
go  over  and  see  about  that,'  said  I.  'There's  no  one 
in  the  world  more  willing  and  anxious  to  make  things 
right  than  I  am  if  there  is  anything  wrong.'  I  didn't 
know  just  what  I  had  to  go  up  against.  The  man 
on  the  road  gets  all  the  kicks. 

"Once  in  a  while  there  is  a  clerk  who  puts  out  his 
hand  like  the  boy  who  waits  on  you  at  table  and  if 
pretty  good  coin  is  not  dropped  in  it  or  some  favor 
shown  him,  he  will  have  it  in  for  you. 

"My  customer  and  I  walked  over  to  where  the 
clerk  was  and  I  came  right  out,  and  said,  'Johnny, 
what's  the  matter  with  this  clothing  you've  received 

186 


Tales  of  the  Road 

from  me?    Mr.  Green  (the  merchant)  here  tells  me 
you  say  it  doesn't  fit.     Let's  see  about  that.' 

uThe  clerk  was  slim  and  stoop-shouldered.  The 
tailor  to  his  royal  highness  could  not  have  made  a 
coat  hang  right  on  him. 

'  'Now,  you  are  kicking  so  much,  Johnnie,  on  my 
clothing,  you  go  here  in  this  store  and  pick  out  some 
coats  your  size  from  other  people  and  let's  see  how 
they  fit.  Let's  put  this  thing  to  a  fair  test.' 

'That's  square,'  said  Green.     'If  a  thing  is  so,  I 
want  to  know  it;  if  it  isn't,  I  want  to  know  it.' 

"I  slipped  onto  Johnnie  three  or  four  of  my  com- 
petitor's coats  that  he  brought  and  they  hung  upon 
him  about  as  well  as  they  would  on  a  scare-crow. 

"  'Now,  Johnnie,  you  are  a  good  boy,'  said  I,  'but 
you've  been  inside  so  long  that  the  Lord,  kind  as  He 
is,  hasn't  built  you  just  right.  You  are  not  the  man 
who  is  to  wear  this  clothing  that  comes  into  this  store. 
It  is  the  other  fellow.  My  house  does  not  make  cloth- 
ing for  people  who  are  not  built  right.  We  take  the 
perfect  man  as  our  pattern  and  build  to  suit  him. 
There  are  so  many  more  people  in  the  world  who  are 
strong  and  robust  and  well  proportioned  than  there 
are  those  who  are  not,  that  it  is  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter to  make  clothing  for  the  properly  built  man  than 
for  the  invalid.  Now,  I  just  want  to  show  you  how 
this  clothing  does  fit.  You  take  any  coat  that  you 
wish.  Bring  me  half  a  dozen  of  them  if  you  will — 
one  from  every  line  that  you  bought  from  me,  if  you 


Tales  of  the  Road 

wish.  I  wear  a  38.  Bring  my  size  and  let's  see 
how  they  look.  If  they  are  not  all  right,  I  am  the 
man  who,  most  of  all,  wishes  to  know  it.  I  can't 
afford  to  go  around  the  country  showing  good  sam- 
ples and  selling  poor  stuff.  If  my  stuff  isn't  right,  I 
am  going  to  change  houses  but  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  you're  the  first  man  on  this  whole  trip  that  has 
made  a  single  complaint.  Those  who  bought  small 
bills  from  me  last  season  are  buying  good  bills  from 
me  this  time.  They  have  said  that  my  goods  give 
splendid  satisfaction.  Now,  you  just  simply  go,  John- 
nie, and  get  me  ten  coats.  I  sold  you  ten  numbers — 
I  remember  exactly — 120  suits — one  from  every  line 
that  you  bought,  and  I  want  to  show  you  that  there 
isn't  a  bad  fitter  in  the  whole  lot.' 

"  'Yes,  do  that,  Johnnie,'  said  the  merchant.  'His 
stuff  looked  all  right  to  me  when  I  bought  it.  I, 
myself,  have  not  had  time  to  pay  much  attention  to 
it  and  I  will  have  to  take  your  word  for  these  things, 
but,  now  that  the  question  is  up,  we'll  see  about  it.' 

uThe  clerk  started  to  dig  out  my  size  but  he 
couldn't  find  a  38  in  but  three  lots  to  save  his  life. 
I  put  these  on  and  they  fit  to  a  'T'.  I  looked  in  the 
mirror  myself  and  could  see  that  the  fit  was  perfect. 

"  'Now,  look  here,  Brother  Green,'  said  I,  'what 
are  you  in  business  for?  You  are  in  business  to  buy 
the  best  stuff  that  you  can  for  your  money.  Now, 
you  remember  you  thought  when  you  bought  my 
goods  that  they  were  from  one  to  two  dollars  a  suit 

188 


'SHURE.  THAT  CIGARE  IS  A  BIRRD/ 


Tales  of  the  Road 

cheaper  and  just  as  good  as  anything  you  had  seen. 
Now,  if  you  can  buy  something  from  me  just  as  good 
as  another  man  can  give  you,  and  buy  it  cheaper,  you 
are  going  to  do  it,  aren't  you  ?' 

'Why,  to  be  sure,  Jim/  said  Green,  warming  up. 

"  'Now,  look  here,  it  isn't  the  opinion  of  your 
clerk  or  your  own  opinion  even  that  you  care  a  rap 
for.  The  opinion  that  is  worth  something  is  that 
of  the  man  who  buys  his  goods  from  you.  Now, 
you  see  very  plainly  that  my  stuff  is  good.  Thirty- 
eight  is  a  size  of  which  you  bought  many  and  you 
haven't  that  size  left 'in  but  three  lines  out  of  ten. 
Here  you  see  very  plainly  that  my  goods  have  moved 
faster  than  any  other  clothing  you  have  bought  this 
season;  and,  as  far  as  the  fit  is  concerned,  you  see 
full  well,  that  other  stuff  didn't  fit  Johnnie  because 
he  isn't  built  right.  You  did  see — and  you  do  see — 
I  have  one  of  them  on  right  now — that  my  clothing 
fits  a  well-built  man.' 

"I  saw  that  I  had  the  old  man  on  my  side  and  I 
knew  that  Johnnie  had  dropped  several  points  in  his 
estimation.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  the  clerk 
was  knocking  on  me  in  favor  of  one  of  his  old 
friends.  Of  course  I  wouldn't  come  right  out  and 
say  this  but  the  old  man  himself  grew  wise  on  this 
point  because  that  afternoon  he  came  down  by  him- 
self and  bought  from  me  a  good,  fat  bill.  The  clerk 
simply  killed  himself  by  not  being  fair  with  me.  No 

189 


Tales  of  the  Road 

clerk  who  expects  promotion  can  afford  to  play  favor- 
ites." 

"It's  all  right  when  you  can  get  over  the  clerk's 
head  and  to  the  merchant  himself/'  chimed  in  the 
Boys'  &  Children's  Clothing  man,  when  there  is  any 
graft  going  around,  but  it  is  a  hard  game  to  play 
when  you  must  deal  with  a  buyer  who  is  the  supreme 
judge.  I  once  had  an  experience  with  a  buyer  down 
in  California.  I  went 'into  one  of  the  big  stores  down 
there  and  jollied  around  with  the  buyer  in  my  de- 
partment. He  said  he  would  come  over  and  look  at 
my  line.  He  took  the  hook  so  quickly  that  I  ought 
to  have  been  on  to  him  to  start  with,  but  I  didn't.  He 
came  over  to  my  sample  room  in  the  evening.  Now 
that,  you  know,  isn't  a  very  good  time  to  buy  cloth- 
ing. Nothing  is  as  good  as  daylight  for  that.  He 
didn't  question  my  price  or  anything  of  that  sort.  He 
would  look  at  a  few  things  and  then  stop  and  talk 
horse  with  me  for  awhile.  I  don't  like  to  do  business 
with  that  kind  of  a  fellow.  Wheln  I  do  business,  I 
like  to  do  business;  when  I  talk  horse  I  like  to  talk 
horse ;  and  I  want  a  man  with  me  in  the  sample  room 
who  is  interested  in  what  he  is  doing.  It  is  the  busy 
man,  anyway,  that  makes  you  a  good  customer — not 
the  one  with  whom  business  is  merely  a  side  issue. 

"After  monkeying  around  a  couple  of  hours,  I 
managed  to  get  laid  out  a  pretty  fair  line  of  stuff. 
'Now,5  said  the  buyer,  4to-night  I  can  only  make  up 
a  list  of  what's  hfere.  These  things  suit  me  pretty 

190 


Tales  of  the  Road 

well,  and  in  the  morning  I  can  submit  it  to  the  old 
man  for  his  O.K.' 

"Well,  that  looked  easy  to  me  so  we  wrote  down 
the  order,  and  when  we  got  through,  that  fellow  was 
bold  enough  to  come  right  out  and  say,  'Now,  look 
here,  you're  making  a  pretty  good  commission  on 
this  stuff — here's  a  good  bill,  and  I  can  throw  it  to 
you  if  I  wish,  or  I  can  kill  it  if  I  like.  I'm  not  get- 
ting any  too  much  over  where  I  am,  so  don't  you 
think  your  house  can  dig  up  about  twenty  for  me  on 
this  bill,  and  I'll  see  that  it  sticks?'  " 

"Did  you  dig?"  said  one  of  the  boys. 

"Dig?  You  bet  your  life  not.  This  funny  busi- 
ness, I  won't  do.  It  may  work  for  one  bill  but  it 
won't  last  long  because  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time 
before  the  buyer  who  will  be  bribed  will  be  jumped 
and  lose  his  job.  I  simply  told  the  fellow  that  I 
didn't  do  that  sort  of  business;  that  unless  he  wished 
to  do  business  with  me  strictly  on  the  square,  I 
wouldn't  do  business  with  him  at  all." 

"Well,  what  did  he  say  to  this?"  said  I. 

"Oh,  he  said  to  me,  'I'm  just  joshing  with  you  and 
I  really  wanted  to  see  if  I  couldn't  get  you  down  a 
little  and  make  that  much  more  for  the  house.  I  like 
to  do  business  myself  with  any  one  who  is  on  the 
square.'  ' 

"The  order  stuck  then?"  asked  the  wall  paper  man. 

"No,  it  didn't.  That's  the  worst  of  it.  A  few 
days  after  I  reached  home  in  came  a  cancelation  from 

191 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  head  of  the  house.  At  that  time,  I  didn't  under- 
stand it.  I  supposed  that  the  head  of  the  house  him- 
self had  really  canceled  the  order,  so  the  next  time 
I  went  to  that  town,  I  waltzed  straight  up  to  the  of- 
fice and  asked  to  see  the  head  of  the  establishment. 
I  asked  him  why  he  had  canceled  my  order  and  he 
told  me  that  his  buyer  really  had  all  of  that  in  charge 
and  that  he  only  followed  out  his  recommendations ; 
that  the  buyer  had  told  him  to  cancel  that  bill  and 
he  had  done  so. 

"I  saw  through  the  whole  scheme.  There  was 
just  one  thing  for  me  to  do.  I  simply  came  right 
square  out  and  told  the  old  man  that  his  buyer  had 
wanted  to  get  $20.00  from  me  to  make  the  bill 
stick;  and  I  bet  him  a  hundred  that  the  clerk  had 
canceled  my  order  so  that  he  could  get  a  rake-off 
from  somebody  else. 

"The  old  man  sent  for  the  buyer  and  told  him  to 
get  his  pay  and  leave.  He  thanked  me  for  putting 
him  wise  and  from  that  time  on,  he  or  some  other 
member  of  the  firm  always  goes  to  the  sample  room." 

Now,  it  must  not  be  thought  that  every  sale  that 
is  made  must  be  put  through  by  some  bright  turn. 
These  stories  I  have  told  about  getting  the  mer- 
chant's attention  are  the  extreme  cases.  The  general 
on  the  field  of  battle  ofttimes  must  order  a  flank 
movement,  or  a  spirited  cavalry  dash;  but  he  wins 
his  battle  by  following  a  well-thought-out  plan.  So 
with  the  salesman.  He  must  rely,  in  the  main,  upon 

192 


Tales  of  the  Road 

good,  quiet,  steady,  well-planned  work.  Some  mer- 
chants compel  a  man  to  use  extraordinary  means  to 
catch  them  at  the  start.  And  the  all-around  salesman 
will  be  able  to  meet  such  an  emergency  right  at  the 
moment,  and  in  an  original  way  that  will  win. 


CHAPTER  XL 

CUTTING  PRICES. 

IS  NOT  the  salesman  on  the  road  who  sells  goods 
to  one  customer  at  one  price  and  to  another  at 
another  price,  a  thief  ?  Is  not  the  house  which 
allows  its  salesman  to  do  this  an  accomplice  to  the 
crime  of  theft? 

This  is  a  hot  shot,  I  know;  but,  if  you  are  a  sales- 
man, ask  yourself  if  it  is  right  to  get  the  marked 
price  of  an  article  from  a  friend  who  gives  you  his 
confidence,  and  then  sell  the  same  thing  for  a  lower 
price  to  another  man  who  is  suspicious  and  beats 
you  down.  Ask  yourself,  if  you  have  men  on  the 
road,  whether  or  not  it  is  right  for  you  to  allow  your 
salesman  to  do  these  things,  and  then  answer  "Yes" 
or  "No."  You  will  all  answer  "No,  but  we  can't  help 
ourselves." 

You  can.  A  friend  of  mine,  who  travels  for  a 
large  house,  way  down  East,  that  employs  one  hun- 
dred road  salesmen,  told  me  recently  of  an  experi- 
ence directly  in  point.  I  will  let  him  tell  the  story 
to  you: 

"It  is  the  custom  in  our  house,  you  know,  for  all 
of  the  boys  to  meet  together  twice  each  year  when  we 

194 


Tales  of  the  Road 

come  in  after  our  samples.  After  we  get  our  samples 
marked  and  packed,  and  are  ready  for  the  road,  the 
'old  gentleman7  in  the  house  gives  us  all  a  banquet. 
He  sits  at  the  head  of  the  table  and  is  toastmaster. 

uHe  is  wise  in  bringing  the  boys  together  in  this 
way  because  he  knows  that  the  boys  on  the  road  know 
how  things  ought  to  be  and  that  they  can  give  him  a 
great  many  pointers,  He  has  a  stenographer  present 
who  takes  down  every  word  that  is  said  during  the 
evening.  The  reports  of  these  semi-annual  meetings 
are  the  law  books  of  this  house. 

"At  our  last  meeting  the  'old  gentleman'  when  he 
first  arose  to  speak,  said :  'Look  here,  boys' — he  knew 
how  to  take  us  all — 'there  is  one  thing  about  our 
system  of  business  that  I  do  not  like ;  it  is  this  cutting 
of  prices.  Now,  what  I  would  like  to  do  this  very 
season — and  I  have  thought  of  it  since  you  have  all 
packed  up  your  trunks — is  to  have  all  samples  marked 
in  plain  figures  and  for  no  man  to  deviate  in  any  way 
from  the  prices.  Of  course  this  is  rather  a  bold  thing 
to  do  in  that  we  have  done  business  in  the  old  way 
of  marking  goods  in  characters  for  many  years,  so 
I  wish  to  hear  from  you  all  and  see  what  you  think 
about  it.  I  shall  wish  as  many  of  you  as  will  to  state 
in  words  just  what  you  think  on  this  subject,  one  by 
one;  but  first  of  all,  I  wish  that  every  man  who  fa- 
vors marking  samples  in  plain  figures  and  not  vary- 
ing from  the  price  would  stand  up,  and  that  those 
who  think  the  other  way  would  keep  their  seats.' 

195 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  sir,  do  you  know  I  was  the  only  man  out 
of  that  whole  hundred  to  stand  up.  The  others  sat 
there.  After  standing  for  a  moment  I  sat  down,  and 
the  'old  gentleman'  arose  again. 

"  'Well,  the  vote  is  so  near  unanimous,'  said  the 
'old  gentleman,'  "that  it  seems  hardly  necessary  for  us 
to  discuss  the  matter.  Yet  it  is  possible  that  one  man 
may  be  right  and  ninety-nine  may  be  wrong,  so  let  us 
hear  from  one  of  our  salesmen  who  differs  from  his 
ninety-nine  brethren.' 

"With  this  I  stood  up,  and  I  made  a  speech  some- 
thing like  this:  'Mr.  President,  and  Fellow  Sales- 
men :  I  am  very  glad  that  our  worthy  President  has 
given  me  the  right  to  speak.  He  has  said  that  one 
man  in  a  hundred  may  be  right  even  though  ninety- 
nine  do  not  believe  as  he  does.  There  is  no  may  be 
about  it.  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  right.  I  KNOW  IT. 
I  speak  from  experience.  When  I  first  started  on 
the  road  one  of  my  old  friends  in  the  house — I  was 
just  a  stock  boy,  you  know,  going  out  for  the  first 
time,  not  knowing  whether  I  would  succeed  or  fail 
— this  old  friend  gave  me  this  advice:  Said  he, 
"Billy,  it  is  better  for  you  to  be  abused  for  selling 
goods  cheaply  than  to  be  fired  for  not  selling  them 
at  all."  With  this  advice  before  me  from  an  old 
salesman  in  the  house,  and  knowing  that  all  of  the 
salesmen  nearly  in  greater  or  less  degree  slaughtered 
the  price  of  goods,  I  went  out  on  the  road.  The 
first  thing  I  began  to  do  was'  to  cut,  cut,  cut.  Letters 

196 


Tales  of  the  Road 

came  to  me  from  the  house  to  quit  it,  but  I  kept  on 
cutting,  cutting,  cutting.  I  knew  that  the  other  boys 
in  the  house  did  it,  and  I  did  not  see  any  reason  why 
I  should  not.  It  was  my  habit  to  do  this :  If  a  man 
was  hard  to  move  in  any  way  and  was  mean  to 
me  I  came  at  him  with  prices.  If  he  treated  me 
gentlemanly  and  gave  me  his  confidence,  I  robbed 
him — that  is,  I  got  the  full  marked  price,  while  the 
other  fellow  bought  goods  cheaper  than  this  man. 
Once  I  got  caught  up  with.  Two  of  my  customers 
met  in  market  and,  as  merchants  usually  do  when 
they  meet  in  market,  they  began  to  discuss  the  lines 
of  goods  which  they  carried.  They  found  that  they 
both  carried  my  line,  and  my  good  friend  learned 
that  the  other  fellow  bought  certain  lines  cheaper 
than  he  did. 

"  'The  next  time  I  went  around  to  his  town  I  wore 
the  same  old  good  smile  and  everything  of  that  kind 
but  I  soon  saw  that  he  did  not  take  to  me  as  kindly 
as  before.  When  I  asked  him  to  come  over  to  my 
sample  room,  he  said  to  me,  "No,  I  will  not  go  over 
— I  shall  not  buy  any  more  goods  from  you." 

"  '  "Why,  what  is" the  matter?"  I  asked. 

"  *  "Oh,  never  mind,  I  just  don't  care  to  handle 
your  line,"  said  he. 

"  '  "Why,  aren't  the  goods  all  right?"  I  asked. 

"  c  "Yes,  the  goods  are  all  right,  and  since  you 
have  pressed  the  question  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  the 
reason  why  I  don't  care  to  buy  any  more  goods  from 

197 


Tales  of  the  Road 

you  is  that  you  have  sold  goods  to  other  people  for 
less  money  than  you  have  to  me.'7 

"  *I  could  not  deny  it,  and  even  when  I  offered  to 
sell  him  goods  at  the  same  price  that  I  had  other 
people  he  said  to  me,  uNo,  sir;  you  can't  sell  me 
goods  at  any  price.  I  don't  care  to  deal  with  a  man 
who  does  business  that  way." 

"  'This  set  me  to  thinking,  and  I  thought  about  it 
so  hard  that  I  began  to  see  that  I  was  not  doing  right 
and,  furthermore,  that  I  was  not  doing  what  would 
help  me  to  build  up  a  permanent  business.  I  saw  that 
I  was  trying  to  build  business  by  making  many  mer- 
chants think  that  I  was  a  cut-throat  rather  than  a  man 
in  whom  they  could  place  confidence.  So  I  believe 
in  marking  goods  in  plain  figures  and  selling  to  every 
one  for  the  same  price.  And,  gentlemen,  I  even 
changed  territories  so  I  could  go  into  a  new  one  and 
build  a  business  on  the  square.  Whether  or  not  I 
have  prospered,  you  all  know.' 

"The  old  gentleman  arose  and  said:  'Now,  what 
our  good  friend  has  just  said,  strikes  me  just  right, 
and  if  I  were  a  salesman  I  would  follow  out  his 
ideas ;  he  has  convinced  me.  But  what  do  you  other 
gentlemen  think  of  this?  I  would  like  to  hear  from 
you.' 

"One  by  one  the  boys  got  up,  not  all  of  them,  but 
many.  Boiled  down,  the  reasons  which  they  gave 
for  not  wishing  to  mark  their  goods  in  plain  figures, 
were  these: 

198 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"First.  That  ofttimes  one  of  their  customer's  pa- 
trons might  wish  to  make  a  special  order  and  if  he 
saw  the  samples  marked  in  plain  figures  he  would 
find  out  just  how  much  profit  was  being  made. 

"Second.  That  often  they  showed  goods  in  a 
man's  store  and  people  who  were  standing  around 
would  see  what  the  wholesale  price  was. 

"Third.  That  most  merchants  like  to  feel  that 
they  are  buying  goods  cheaper  than  any  one  else. 

"After  all  of  these  arguments  were  made,  the  old 
gentleman  asked  me  to  reply  to  them.  I  did  so  in 
these  words : 

'  'Now,  as  to  your  first  argument  about  special 
orders.  The  man  on  the  road  should  not  try  or  wish 
to  sell  one  hat  or  one  pair  of  shoes  or  one  suit  of 
clothes  to  some  special  customer  who  will  take  half 
an  hour  to  make  his  selection.  What  he  should  do 
is  to  sell  a  merchant  a  good  bill — and  he  can  sell  a 
whole  bill  of  goods  about  as  quickly  as  he  can  sell 
one  special  item.  If  marking  my  goods  in  plain  fig- 
ures would  do  nothing  more  than  keep  away  from 
my  sample  room  these  special  order  fiends  which 
hound  every  merchant  in  the  country,  that  alone 
would  lead  me  to  do  it.' 

"When  I  said  this,  several  of  the  boys  clapped 
their  hands,  and  I  saw  that  things  were  coming  my 
way. 

'  'Now,  as  to  your  second  argument  regarding 
showing  goods  in  a  merchant's  store.  If  there  is 

199 


Tales  of  the  Road 

anything  I  detest  it  is  to  do  this,  because  when  you 
go  to  show  a  man  your  goods  you  should  have  his 
complete  attention.  This  you  cannot  get  when  there 
are  customers  present  or  a  lot  of  loafers  around  the 
store  cutting  into  what  you  are  doing.  I  would  rath- 
er open  up  in  the  office  of  a  burning  livery  stable 
than  have  a  whole  day  in  a  store.  What  you  want 
to  do,  gentlemen,'  said  I,  'is  this :  Not  to  carry  your 
samples  to  your  customer's  store,  but  to  take  your 
customer  to  your  store — your  sample  room.  There 
you  get  his  complete  attention,  without  which  no  one 
can  make  a  successful  sale.' 

"Still  more  of  the  boys  applauded  me  and  I  con- 
tinued : 

"  'Now,  gentlemen,  as  to  the  last  point.  Several 
of  you  have  said  that  some  merchants  wish  to  think 
that  they  buy  from  you  cheaper  than  other  merchants 
in  neighboring  towns.  They  do  not  wish  to  think 
anything  of  the  kind.  What  they  do  wish  to  think 
is  that  they  are  buying  them  as  cheaply  as  their  neigh- 
bors do.'  Still  more  of  the  boys  applauded  what  I 
said,  and  one  fellow  who  traveled  down  in  Missouri 
yelled  like  a  coon  hunter. 

'The  basis  of  love,  gentlemen,'  I  persisted,  'is 
respect.  Some  of  you  have  had  the  good  sense  to 
marry.  To  each  of  these  I  say:  Before  the  girl  who 
is  now  your  wife  found  that  she  loved  you,  she 
discovered  that  you  had  her  respect  and  admiration. 
'  'And  there  is  not  a  single  one  of  you  who  has  a 

200 


Tales  of  the  Road 

customer  that  does  not  have  at  least  a  little  confidence 
in  you.  Confidence  is  the  basis  of  business. 

"  'Now,  I  want  to  tell  you  another  thing' — I  was 
getting  warm  then — 'It  is  impossible  to  tell  a  lie  so 
that  the  man  to  whom  you  tell  it  will  believe  it  is  the 
truth.  If  a  man  has  a  lie  in  his  heart,  that  lie  will 
be  felt  and  spotted  by  the  men  he  talks  to  while  he 
affirms  with  his  lips  that  he  speaks  the  truth.  If  a 
merchant  asks  you  if  you  are  selling  him  goods  as 
cheaply  as  you  sell  them  to  other  people,  and  you  tell 
him  "Yes"  and  you  are  really  not  doing  so,  he  will 
know  that  you  are  telling  him  a  lie,  and  you  will  lose 
his  confidence  and  you  will  lose  his  business.  The 
one  thing  to  do  then,  is  to  treat  everybody  alike — to 
sell  them  all  at  the  same  price. 

"Now,  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  mark  his  samples 
in  characters  and  to  do  a  one-price  business,  but  you 
can  bet  your  life  that  the  stranger  will  be  leery  of  you 
if  your  goods  are  marked  in  characters,  But  if  you 
mark  your  goods  in  plain  figures  and  you  say  to  a 
merchant  when  you  begin  to  show  them  to  him  that 
your  goods  are  marked  in  plain  figures  and  that  you 
do  not  vary  from  the  price,  he  will  believe  you  and 
will  not  try  to  beat  you  down.  Then  you  will  gain 
his  confidence  and  he  will  have  more  confidence  in 
you,  the  plain-figure  man,  than  he  will  in  the  char- 
acter-price man  from  whom  he  might  have  been 
buying  for  years. 

"  'Judgment  is  scarcely  a  factor  in  business;  even 

201 


Tales  of  the  Road 

many  good  merchants  are  not  judges  of  goods.  They 
are  all  free  to  confess  this.  The  best  merchant  is 
the  best  judge  of  men.  These  merchants,  therefore, 
must  and  do  depend  upon  the  salesmen  from  whom 
they  buy  their  goods.  Here,  again,  is  where  con- 
fidence comes  in.  This  whole  thing  is  confidence,  I 
say.  Many  a  merchant  passes  up  lines  of  goods 
that  he  thinks  are  better  than  those  he  is  handling — 
passes  them  up  because  he  does  not  know  their  super- 
iority and  because  he  does  not  trust  the  man  who  tries 
to  sell  them  to  him. 

"  'Merchants  themselves — many  of  them — give 
baits  to  their  customers.  They  know  this  game  full 
well,  and  they  do  not  care  for  baits  themselves.  I 
remember  that  I  once  sold  a  bill  of  goods  in  this 
way :  I  had  sold  this  customer  regularly  for  five  or 
six  years  every  season.  This  time  he  told  me  that 
he  had  bought.  He  said  to  me:  "The  other  fellow 
gave  me  his  price  one  morning  and  then  he  came  over 
to  see  me  in  the  afternoon  and  dropped  on  the  price 
and  I  bought  the  goods  then  because  I  knew  I  had 
him  at  the  bottom." 

"  'Now,  do  you  suppose  I  went  to  making  cuts 
to  get  even  with  that  other  fellow?  Not  a  bit  of  it. 
I  first  showed  my  old  customer  that  he  did  not  know 
the  values  of  goods.  Then  I  told  him:  "Now,  you 
may  buy  my  goods  if  you  like;  but  you  will  buy  them 
no  cheaper  than  I  have  been  selling  them  to  you  for 
the  last  five  or  six  years.  Do  you  suppose  that  I 

202 


Tales  of  the  Road 

would  come  around  here  to-day  and  make  an  open 
confession  that  I  have  been  robbing  you  for  all  of 
these  years?  No,  sir;  I  try  to  see  that  my  goods  are 
marked  right  in  the  beginning  and  then  I  treat  every- 
body alike."  Although  he  had  turned  me  down,  this 
man  bought  my  goods  and  countermanded  the  order 
of  the  other  fellow. 

"  'And,  boys — you  who  have  been  so  dishonest  so 
long' — said  I,  'don't  know  how  happy  it  makes  a  fel- 
low feel  to  know  that  what  he  is  doing  is  right,  and 
you  cannot  beat  the  right.  It  is  good  enough.  When 
you  knowr  in  your  own  heart  that  you  are  honorable 
in  your  dealings  with  your  merchant  friends,  you  can 
walk  right  square  up  to  them  and  look  them  straight 
in  the  eye  and  make  them  feel  that  you  are  treating 
them  right.  They  will  then  give  you  their  confi- 
dence, and  confidence  begets  business.  Therefore, 
gentlemen,  I  don't  care  what  any  of  you  are  going  to 
do.  I,  myself,  shall  mark  my  goods  in  plain  figures 
and  sell  them  at  the  same  price  to  everyone,  and  I 
only  wish  that  I  worked  for  a  firm  that  would  compel 
all  their  salesmen  to  be  honest.' 

"With  this,  the  old  man  arose.  I  saw  that  I  had 
him  won  over,  but  I  heard  one  of  the  boys  who  sat 
near  me  whisper,  'Now,  watch  the  old  man  give  it  to 
him.'  But  he  did  not.  Instead,  he  said  to  me :  'This 
is  surely  a  case  where,  although  there  were  ninety- 
nine  against  him,  the  one  is  right.  I  hereby  issue  an 
order  to  every  salesman  to  mark  his  goods  in  plain 

203 


Tales  of  the  Road 

figures  and  to  sell  his  goods  at  the  marked  price.  I 
wish  you,  furthermore,  to  do  another  thing.  On 
every  sample  on  which  I  told  you  you  might  make 
a  cut,  if  necessary,  I  wish  you  would  make  that  cut 
on  the  start.  I  have  always  wished  to  do  business 
as  our  one-priced  friend  has  suggested  but  I  have 
never  been  strong  enough  to  do  so.  I  had  always 
thought  myself  honest,  believing  that  business  ex- 
pediency made  it  necessary  to  give  a  few  people  the 
inside  over  others;  but  I  am  going  to  make  a  frank 
confession  to  you — I  can  say  that  I  have  not  been 
honest. 

"  'I  feel  like  a  certain  clothing  manufacturer  felt 
for  a  long  time.  I  was  talking  with  him  at  luncheon  the 
other  day;  he  is  a  man  who  marks  his  goods  in  plain 
figures.  If  the  salesman,  by  mistake,  sold  a  ten  dol- 
lar suit  for  eleven  dollars,  the  goods  when  shipped 
out  are  billed  at  ten  dollars.  He  is  the  one,  gentle- 
men, who  put  this  plain-figure  idea  into  my  head. 
One  of  his  salesmen,  as  we  all  sat  together  at  the 
table,  asked  him:  uMr.  Blank,  how  many  years  have 
you  been  doing  the  one-price,  plain-figure  business?" 

"  4  UA  little  over  four  years,"  said  he. 

"  '  "And  how  old  are  you?"  the  salesman  asked. 

"  '  "Fifty-five,"  was  the  answer. 

"  4  "In  other  words,"  said  he,  "you  have  been  a 
thief  for  over  half  a  century." 

"'"Yes;  you're  right,"  said  the  clothing  manu- 

204 


Tales  of  the  Road 

facturer — and  this  was  the  only  time  I  ever  heard 
him  agree  with  anybody  in  my  life  1 

"  'His  business  philosophy  was  quaintly  summed 
up  in  the  one  word  PERVERSE.  "Give  a  man  what  he 
wants,"  he  said,  uand  he  doesn't  want  it."  "When 
you  find  other  people  going  in  one  direction,  go  in  the 
other,  and  you  will  go  in  the  right  one."  He  saw 
nearly  every  one  else  in  the  clothing  business  mark- 
ing their  goods  in  characters,  and,  true  to  his  philos- 
ophy— "Perverse" — marked  his  goods  in  plain  fig- 
ures, and  he  is  succeeding.  Now,  gentlemen,  I  am 
going  to  do  the  same  thing. 

"  'And,  another  thing — I  am  not  going  to  mark 
just  part  of  them  in  plain  figures.  Do  you  know,  I 
called  on  a  wholesale  drygoods  man  the  other  day — 
the  President  of  the  concern.  He  told  me  that  he 
marked  a  part  of  their  manufactured  goods  in  plain 
figures  and  the  rest  in  characters.  I  said  to  him, 
"You  confess  that  you  are  only  partly  honest;  in 
being  only  half  honest  you  are  dishonest."  So, 
gentlemen,  I  am  going  to  mark  our  goods  in  plain 
figures,  and  I  want  you  to  sell  them  to  everybody  at 
the  same  price;  if  you  do  not,  I  will  not  ship  them. 

'  'Now,  I  thought  I  was  through,  but  one  more 
idea  has  occurred  to  me.  By  selling  our  goods  at 
strictly  one  price  I  can  figure  exactly  how  much 
money  I  am  making  on  a  given  volume  of  business. 
Before,  this  matter  of  "cuts"  made  it  a  varying,  un- 
certain amount;  in  future  there  will  be  certainty  as 

205 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  the  amount  of  profits.  And  another  thing,  so  sure 
as  I  live,  if  all  of  you  go  out  and  make  the  same  in- 
crease that  the  one  who  stood  out  against  all  of  us 
has  made,  our  business  will  thrive  so  that  we  can 
afford  to  sell  goods  cheaper  still.  Until  to-night  I 
never  knew  why  it  was  that  he  took  hold  of  what 
seemed  to  me  a  big  business  in  his  predecessor's  ter- 
ritory and  doubled  it  the  second  year.  His  success 
was  the  triumph  of  common  honesty,  and  we  all  shall 
try  his  plan,  for  honesty  is  right,  and  nothing  beats 
the  right.' 

"When  the  vote  was  taken  the  second  time,  every 
man  at  the  table  stood  up." 


206 


D 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CANCELED    ORDERS. 

O  I  like  cancellations?  Well,  I  guess  not!" 
said  a  furnishing  goods  friend,  straightening 
up  a  little  and  lighting  his  cigar  as  a  group  of 
us  sat  around  the  radiator  after  supper  one  night  in 
the  Hoffman  House.  "I'll  tell  you,  boys,  I'd  rather 
keep  company  with  a  hobo,  than  with  a  merchant 
who  will  place  an  order  and  then  cancel  it  without 
just  cause.  I  can  stand  it  all  right  if  I  call  on  a  man 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century  and  don't  sell  him  a  sou, 
but  when  I  once  make  a  sale,  I  want  it  to  stick.  This 
selling  business  isn't  such  a  snap  as  most  of  our  em- 
ployers think.  It  takes  a  whole  lot  of  hard  knock- 
ing; the  easy  push-over  days  are  all  over.  When  a 
man  lands  a  good  order  now  it  makes  the  blood  rush 
all  over  his  veins ;  and  when  an  order  it  cut  out  it  is 
like  getting  separated  from  a  wisdom  tooth.  Of 
course  you  can't  blame  a  Kansas  merchant  for  going 
back  on  his  orders  in  a  grasshopper  year;  but  it  is 
the  fellow  who  has  half  a  notion  of  canceling  when 
he  buys  and  afterwards  really  does  cancel,  that  I 
carry  a  club  for. 

"Usually  a   fellow  who  does  this  sort  of  funny 

207 


Tales  of  the  Road 

work  comes  to  grief.  I  know  I  once  had  the  satis- 
faction of  playing  even  with  a  smart  buyer  who  can- 
celed on  me. 

"I  was  down  in.  California.  I  was  put  onto  a  fel- 
low named  Johnson  up  in  Humboldt  County,  who 
wanted  some  plunder  in  my  line — the  boys,  you 
know,  are  pretty  good  to  each  other  in  tipping  a  good 
chance  off  to  one  another.  I  couldn't  very  well  run 
up  to  the  place — it  was  a  two-day  town — so  I  wrote 
Johnson  to  meet  me  at  'Frisco  at  my  expense.  He 
came  down,  bought  his  bill  all  right,  and  I  paid  him 
his  expense.  Luckily,  I  put  a  clothing  man  on  and 
we  'divied'  the  expense.  We  treated  that  fellow 
white  as  chalk ;  we  gave  him  a  good  time — took  him 
to  the  show  and  put  before  him  a  good  spread. 

"Do  you  know  that  fellow  just  simply  worked  us. 
He  wanted  to  come  to  'Frisco,  anyhow,  and  just 
thought  he'd  let  me  foot  the  bill.  How  do  I  know 
it?  Because  he  wrote  the  house  canceling  the  order 
before  he  started  back  home,  I  figured  up  how  long 
it  would  take  to  get  a  letter  to  Chicago  and  back; 
and  he  couldn't  have  gone  home  and  written  the  firm 
so  that  I  could  get  the  notification  as  soon  as  I  did 
unless  he  wrote  the  cancelation  the  very  night  we  took 
him  to  the  theater.  I  never  had  a  man  do  me 
such  dirt.  I  felt  like  I'd  love  to  give  him  just  one 
more  swell  dinner,  and  use  a  stomach  pump  on  him. 

"But  didn't  I  get  beautifully  even  with  Brother 
Johnson ! 

208 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"The  next  season,  as  a  drawing  card,  I  had  my 
packer  carry  on  the  side,  in  his  name,  a  greatly  ad- 
vertised line  of  shoes.  It  didn't  pay  a  long  commis- 
sion, but  everybody  wanted  it;  and  it  enabled  me  to 
get  people  into  my  big  towns  so  that  I  did  not  have 
to  beat  the  brush. 

"I  had  failed  to  scratch  Johnson  from  my  mailing 
list,  so  he  got  a  card  from  my  packer — as  well  as  a 
letter  from  myself — that  if  he  would  meet  him  in 
San  Francisco  his  expenses  would  be  paid.  He  did 
not  know  that  my  packer  and  myself  were  really  the 
the  same  man. 

"Johnson  jumped  at  the  advertised  shoe  line  like 
a  rainbow  trout  at  a  'royal  coachman.'  It's  funny 
how  some  merchants  get  daffy  over  a  little  printer's 
ink,  but  it  does  the  work  and  the  man  who  advertises 
his  goods  is  the  boy  who  gets  the  fat  envelopes.  I'd 
rather  go  on  the  road  to-day  with  a  line  of  shoes 
made  out  of  soft  blotting  paper,  if  they  had  good, 
things  said  about  them  in  the  magazines  and  if  flam- 
ing posters  went  with  them  than  to  try  to  dish  out 
oak-tanned  soles  with  prime  calf  uppers  at  half  price 
and  with  a  good  line  of  palaver.  It's  the  lad  who 
sticks  type  that,  when  you  get  right  down  to  it,  does 
the  biz. 

"The  letter  which  Johnson  wrote  in  reply  to  the 
card  of  my  packer  went  something  like  this: 

1  'My  dear  sir:     In  regard  to  your  favor  of  the 
23d  inst.,  I  beg  to  say  that  I  could  use  about  $2000 

209 


Tales  of  the  Road 

worth  of  your  line  if  you  could  come  up  here,  pro- 
viding that  I  would  be  the  only  one  that  you  would 
sell  your  line  to  in  my  town. 

u  'Hoping  to  hear  from  you  soon  in  regard  to  this 
matter,  I  remain,  very  truly,  Johnson.' 

"  T.  S.  If  you  can't  possibly  come  up,  I'll  come 
down.' 

"What  did  I  do?  Well,  I  thought  the  matter 
over  and  decided  that  business  was  business  and, 
there  being  no  other  chance  in  his  town,  I  would  let 
him  come  and  try  to  play  even  on  the  old  score.  I 
wired  him  to  come  down,  and  I  thought,  as  I  had 
him  on  the  run,  I'd  better  put  on  a  pusher.  My  mes- 
sage read:  'Come  down  but  you  must  be  here  to* 


morrow.' 


"Just  after  my  telegram  was  off — I  told  the  girl 
to  rush  it — I  called  at  the  office  for  my  mail  and, 

bless  me!     I  had  a  letter  from  another  man  in  the 

i 
same  town. 

"Now,  say  what  you  will,  boys,  a  man's  letter  re- 
veals his  character.  If  a  man  has  mean  blood  in  his 
veins  he  will  spread  some  of  it  on  the  paper  when  he 
writes  to  you.  I've  seen  the  pugnacious  wrinkles  of 
a  bull  pup's  face  many  a  time  wiggling  between  the 
lines  of  a  letter.  And  if  there's  sunshine  in  a  man's 
heart  that  also  will  brighten  up  the  sheet  he  writes  on. 

"The  other  man  in  the  town  wrote  about  like  this : 

"  Tour  postal  received  and  I  must  say  I  regret  ex- 
ceedingly that  I  have  just  sent  in  a  mail  order  for 

210 


Tales  of  the  Road 

your  goods.  I  wish  I  had  known  that  you  were  com- 
ing, for  I  always  save  my  orders  for  the  boys  on  the 
road  when  I  can.  Now,  the  next  time  you  come  to 
'Frisco,  let  me  know  a  few  days  ahead  and  I  will  run 
down  to  meet  you.  I  want  your  goods.  My  business 
in  your  line  is  steadily  increasing.  When  I  started 
in  I  just  kept  them  for  a  side  line,  but  your  goods^ 
give  first  class  satisfaction,  and  in  the  near  future  P 
shall  handle  nothing  else.  It  will  take  a  little  time 
to  clean  out  the  other  makes,  but  when  I  do — by 
next  season — I  shall  have  a  nice  order  for  you.  I 
hope  to  hear  from  you  before  you  get  to  the  next 
coast — say  a  month  before.  Truly  yours,  <-. 

"They  say  a  'bird  in  the  hand's  worth  two  in  the 
bush,'  but  that  depends  upon  the  kind  of  a  bird  you've 
got  hold  of.  I'll  let  go  of  a  tough  old  owl  every 
time  to  take  a  chance  at  catching  a  spring  chicken. 
Without  a  second  thought,  I  decided  that  I'd  risk  it 
on  the  man  who  wrote  me  such  a  gentlemanly  letter 
rather  than  deal  with  the  fellow  who  had  canceled 
on  me.  Furthermore,  I  had  half  an  idea  that  John- 
son was  making  me  fair  promises  only  to  get  the  line 
and  cut  the  other  fellow's  throat  and  that  maybe  he 
would  cancel  again.  So  I  immediately  sent  Johnson 
a  second  telegram: 

"  'Cannot  place  the  line  with  you.  Do  not  come 
down.' 

uHe  was  anxious  for  the  line  and  he  wired  back: 

"  'Write  particulars  why  you  cannot  sell  me  your 
shoes.* 

211 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  wasn't  this  a  chance?  My  clothing  friend 
was  with  me  again.  I  told  him  the  story.  'Soak 
him  good  and  wet!'  said  he.  Together  we  wrote 
the  following  letter,  and,  you  bet  your  sweet  life,  I 
mailed  it,  signing  my  packer's  name : 

"  'Sir:  You  wire  me  to  write  you  "particulars 
why"  I  cannot  sell  you  my  line  of  shoes.  Two  of 
my  friends  at  present  in  the  hotel  inform  me  that  six 
months  ago  you  met  them  here  at  their  expense,  were 
royally  entertained  by  them  and  that  after  buying 
bills  of  them  you  almost  immediately  cancelled  your 
orders,  and  that  you  have  never  offered  to  return  to 
them  the  $25.00  they  spent  for  your  traveling  ex- 
penses. These  gentlemen  are  reputable;  and,  to  an- 
swer your  question  specifically  and  plainly,  I  do  not 
care  to  place  my  line  with  you  because  in  you  I  have 
no  confidence,  sir.' ' 

"That  was  getting  even  with  a  vengeance,"  spoke 
up  the  furnishing  goods  man.  "In  this  canceling  bus- 
iness, though,  sometimes  the  merchant  has  just  cause 
for  it.  I  know  I  once  had  a  case  where  my  customer 
did  exactly  the  right  thing  by  canceling  his  order. 

"Along  the  last  part  of  October,  I  sold  him  a  bill 
of  ties — this  was  down  in  Mississippi.  I  sent  in  a 
little  express  order  for  immediate  shipment,  and  for 
December  first  a  freight  shipment  which  my  man 
wished  for  the  Christmas  trade.  I  also  took  his  spring 
order  to  be  sent  out  February  first. 

"Now,  my  man's  credit  was  good.  For  several 
seasons  he  had  been  discounting  his  bills.  He  had 

212 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  personal  acquaintance  of  our  credit  man  and  had 
made  a  good  impression  on  him.  I  always  like  to 
have  my  customers  acquainted  with  our  credit  man. 
It's  a  good  thing  always  for  the  merchant  to  do  and 
it's  also  a  good  thing  for  the  house  to  know  their 
trade  personally.  Makes  the  man  out  in  the  country 
feel  that  he's  not  doing  business  with  strangers. 

"There  was  no  reason,  then,  why  there  should 
have  been  any  question  in  the  credit  department  about 
making  the  shipment.  The  little  express  order  went 
out  all  right  but,  by  mistake,  the  credit  man  placed 
the  February  first  shipment  and  the  December  first 
order  away  in  the  February  first  shipment  file'.  This 
was  a  clear  mistake — no  excuse  for  it.  Business  men 
should  not  make  mistakes. 

"The  first  I  heard  about  the  matter  was  about  New 
Year.  I  was  struck  dumb  when  I  received  notice 
from  the  Credit  Department  that  my  man  had  can- 
celed his  entire  order.  The  credit  man  told  me  in 
the  letter  which  he  sent  along  with  the  cancelation 
notice  that  he  had  simply  made  a  mistake  in  filing 
the  December  first  order  away  with  the  February 
first  shipment,  and  confessed  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake  and  begged  my  pardon. 

"He  was  a  gentleman  with  three  times  as  much 
work  on  his  hands  as  the  firm  had  the  right  to  expect 
from  him  for  the  money  they  paid  him,  so,  although 
I  was  much  put  out  because  of  the  cancelation,  I  real- 
ly did  not  have  any  resentment  toward  the  credit 

213 


Tales  of  the  Road 

man.  If  things  move  along  smoothly  in  a  wholesale 
house,  the  man  in  the  office  and  the  salesman  on  the 
road  must  pull  in  double  harness.  I  couldn't  quite 
agree  with  my  friend  in  the  office,  though,  when  he 
said  that  my  customer,  when  he  failed  to  receive  an 
invoice  soon  after  the  first  of  December,  should 
have  written  in  and  said  so.  That  wasn't  the  cus- 
tomer's business.  It  was  the  business  of  the  house, 
if  they  were  unable  to  make  the  shipment  December 
ist,  to  write  the  man  and  tell  him  so. 

"Well,  there  I  was!  A  good  day's  work  had 
gone  to  the  bad.  My  order — and  it  was  a  good 
healthy  one,  too — was  canceled  and  perhaps  all 
future  business  with  a  good  friend  and  solid  cus- 
tomer was  at  an  end. 

"The  house  had  written  my  friend — his  name  was 
Morris — asking  him  to  reinstate  the  order;  but  that 
was  like  putting  bait  before  a  fish  at  spawning  time. 
He  wouldn't  take  the  hook.  I  knew  if  there  was 
any  reinstating  to  be  had,  I  must  get  it. 

"Now,  Morris  was  a  bully  good  friend  of  mine. 
I  really  liked  him  very  much,  and  he  liked  me.  I 
remember  well  the  first  time  that  I  ever  struck  him. 
Really,  I  went  around  to  see  him  just  for  a  personal 
call.  'Look  here,  old  fellow,'  I  said,  'I  haven't  come 
around  to  do  any  business  with  you;  but  one  of  my 
old  friends,  Jack  Persey,  has  told  me  what  a  good 
fellow  you  are  and  I've  just  dropped  in  to  say  hello. 
Come,  let's  have  a  cigar.' 

214 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"After  we'd  lighted  our  cigars  and  talked  a  little, 
I  said,  'Well,  I'm  sorry  to  get  off  in  such  a  rush  but 
I  must  quit  you.  I  must  be  packing  up.  My  train 
leaves  in  about  an  hour  and  a  half.  Now,  really 
Morris  (he  was  such  a  whole-souled  fellow  that  I 
found  myself,  without  any  undue  familiarity,  calling 
him  by  his  first  name,  after  a  very  few  minutes) ,  I 
don't  want  to  do  any  business  with  you.  I  don't 
wish  to  impose  my  acquaintance  on  you,  but  come 
on  over  to  my  sample  room  and  keep  me  company 
while  I'm  packing.' 

"I  really  didn't  intend  to  do  any  business  with 
him.  Some  of  the  very  best  friends  we  all  have  on 
the  road,  anyhow,  are  those  to  whom  we  never  sell 
a  sou.  Morris  saw  very  plainly  that  I  wasn't  trying 
to  work  him — you  can  always  pick  out,  anyway,  the 
ring  of  truth  in  words  you  hear.  I  started  to  pack 
up  without  showing  an  item  or  even  talking  business. 
My  line  was  displayed,  however,  and  it  was  really  a 
bird.  Morris  himself  picked  up  a  few  samples  and 
threw  them  down  on  the  table. 

'  'Say,  dos  are  pretty  ennyvay.  Sent  me  a  dotzen 
of  each  von  of  dese  in  the  color  dey  are  dere,  ant 
also  in  black.  I  vill  just  gif  you  a  leetle  gompli- 
mentary  orter  on  account  of  Chack.  There  is  no 
reeson  anyvay  vy  I  shouldn't  do  beesness  mit  you. 
You're  de  first  man  on  de  rote  dot  efer  struck  me 
and  didn't  ask  me  to  buy  goots.  I  don't  like  the 
fellow,  anyvay,  dot  I'm  buying  ties  from  and  his 


Tales  of  the  Road 

house  is  noting  to  me.  I  vill  gif  you  a  goot  orter 
next  season.'  And,  sure  enough,  Morris  did  give 
me  a  good  order  next  season,  and  for  several  seasons 
after  that. 

"So  you  can  see  how  I  was  put  out  when  I  got  a 
letter  telling  me  that  Morris  had  canceled  the  order. 
I  really  cared  less  about  the  amount  of  the  order 
than  I  did  about  losing  his  friendship.  So  I  sat 
down  and  dictated  a  letter  to  him  that  ran  some- 
thing like  this: 

"'Dear  Morris: 

"The  wordly  hope  men  set  their  hearts  upon 
Turns  ashes — or  it  prospers — and  anon, 
Like  snow  upon  the  desert's  dusty  face, 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two,  is  gone." 

"  'Our  business  relationship,  Morris,  has  always 
been  so  pleasant  that  many  a  time  I've  hoped  it 
would  last  always.  I  cannot  forget  the  kind-hearted 
and  friendly  way  in  which  you  gave  me  your  first 
order.  I  had  hoped  that  the  firm  I  was  with  would 
give  you  the  good  treatment  which  your  friendship 
for  me  deserved ;  but  here  they  are  making  a  mistake 
with  the  very  man  who,  last  of  all,  I  would  have 
them  offend. 

"  'Now,  Morris,  I  want  you  to  feel  that  this  is 
not  my  fault.  I  am  sure  it  is  not  yours.  It  can  be 
nobody's  fault  but  that  of  the  house.  They,  like 
myself,  are  also  really  very  sorry  for  this  mistake. 

"  'I  enclose  you  tne  letter  which  I  received  from 
them  in  regard  to  this.  Can  you  not  see  that  they 
regret  this  sincerely?  Can  you  not  even  hear  the 

216 


Tales  of  the  Road 

wail  that  our  office  man  must  have  uttered  when  he 
dictated  the  letter?  Now,  Morris,  I  really  know 
that  my  firm  holds  you  in  high  esteem — and  why 
should  they  not  ?  You  have  always  patronized  them 
liberally.  You  have  always  paid  your  bills  and  you 
have  never  made  yourself  ugly  toward  them  in  any 
way. 

"  'As  I  say,  there  is  no  excuse  for  this  mistake  but, 
if  you  are  willing  to  pass  that  all  up,  Morris,  I  am 
sure  you  would  make  our  credit  man,  who  has  made 
this  error,  very  happy  indeed  if  you  would  merely 
wire  the  house,  "Ship  my  goods  as  originally 
ordered." 

"  'And,  after  all,  Morris,  think  this  thing  over 
and  maybe  you  will  conclude  that  u  'Tis  better  far 
to  bear  the  ills  we  have  than  fly  to  others  that  we 
know  not  of." 

"  '  "Can't  be  always  sunny 

Dat's  de  lesson  plain; 
For  ever'  rose,  my  honey, 
Am  sweeter  fer  de  rain." 
"  Tour  friend, 


"A  good  deal  of  poetry  for  a  business  letter," 
spoke  up  one  of  the  boys.  This  pricked  the  necktie 
man,  who  flashed  back,  "Yes,  but  if  there  were  more 
poetry  in  business,  it  would  be  lots  more  pleasant 
than  it  is." 

"Well,  how  did  it  come  out?"  I  asked. 

"It  so  happened  that  I  had  to  pass  through  Mor- 
ris' town  about  ten  days  afterwards.  I  didn't  care 
anything  about  reinstating  the  order  for  the  amount 

217 


Tales  of  the  Road 

of  it,  but  I  really  did  wish  to  go  in  and  see  my  old 
friend  and  at  least  square  myself.  So  I  dropped  off 
one  day  between  trains  at  Morris'  town,  and  went  up 
to  see  him. 

"  'Hello,'  said  he,  'How  are  you,  old  man?  I'm 
glad  to  see  you.  Say,  but  dot  vas  a  tandy  letter. 
I've  ortered  a  seventy-five-cent  vrame  for  it.' 

"  'Well,  Morris,'  said  I,  'you  know  I'm  really 
very  glad  that  a  little  difficulty  of  this  kind  has  come 
up  between  us  as  I  like  you  to  know  just  where  I 
stand.  Now,  I  haven't  come  here  to  do  anything 
but  just  see  you.  Cut  the  order  clear  out — I  wish 
you  would.  It  would  teach  the  house  a  lesson  and 
make  them  more  careful  hereafter.  Come  on  down 
with  me  now.  It's  about  supper  time  and  we're 
going  to  have  a  little  feed.' 

"I  really  meant  every  word  I  said.  After  we  had 
finished  a  fried  chicken  or  two,  we  started  back  to 
Morris'  store. 

'  'Say,'  said  he,   'Haf  you  got  the  copy  of  dot 
orter  I  gafe  you?' 

"I  said,  'Why  no,  Morris,  I  haven't  a  copy  of  it. 
You  have  one.  Don't  you  remember  that  I  gave 
you  one?' 

'Yes,  but  ven  I  didn't  get  my  goots  on  time — I 
kapt  vaiting,  und  vaiting,  und  vaiting,  und  still  dey 
ditn't  com,  I  took  dot  copy  and  I  vas  so  mad  dot 
I  tore  it  op  and  trew  id  in  der  stofe.' 

'Well,  if  you  wish  to  look  over  the  copy,  Mor- 

218 


Tales  of  the  Road 

ris,  I  can  easily  run  down  to  the  depot  and  tear  my 
tissue  paper  one  out  of  my  order  book.' 

"  'Veil,  you  go  down  und  get  it,'  said  Morris. 
'Dere's  some  off  the  Gristmas  goots  it  is  too  late  for 
me  to  use,  but  we'll  fix  op  de  Spring  shipment  som 
vay.' 

uWhen  Morris  and  I  looked  over  my  copy,  he 
cut  out  a  few  items  of  the  December  ist  shipment 
but  added  to  the  February  ist  order  a  great  deal 
more  than  he  canceled  from  the  other  one. 

"  'Say,'  said  Morris,  'do  you  know  vy  I  reinsdadet 
dot  orter.  It  vas  dot  letter  you  sent  me.' 

"  Well,  I  thank  you  very  much,'  said  I. 

u  'You  know,  I  don't  care  so  much  aboud  dose 
"vorldly  hopes"  and  dot  "sonshine,"  but  vat  dit 
strike  me  vas  vere  you  saidt:  "It's  better  fair  to 
bear  de  ilts  ve  half  don  vly  to  odders  dot  ve  know  not 
of."  Dot  means,  Vat's  de  use  of  chanching  'ouses.'  ' 

"You  can  handle  some  men  like  that,"  said  a  hat 
man  friend  who  sat  with  us,  but  I  struck  one  old  bluf- 
fer out  in  South  Dakota  once  that  wouldn't  stand  for 
any  smoothing  over.  He  was  the  most  disagreeable 
white  man  to  do  business  with  I  ever  saw.  He  was 
all  right  to  talk  fishing  and  politics  with,  and  was  a 
good  entertainer.  He  always  treated  me  decently 
in  that  way  but  when  it  got  down  to  business  he  was 
the  meanest  son  of  a  gun  on  earth.  A  fishing  trip 
for  half  an  hour  or  the  politicial  situation  during 
lucheon  is  a  pretty  good  thing  to  talk  over,  but  when 

219 


Tales  of  the  Road 

it  comes  to  interfering  with  business,  I  think  it  is 
about  time  to  cut  it  out. 

"My  house  had  been  selling  this  man  for  several 
years.  He  handled  a  whole  lot  of  goods  but  it 
worried  the  life  out  of  me  to  get  his  bill. 

"Last  time  I  did  business  with  him  he  had 
monkeyed  with  me  all  day  long,  and  I  had  struck  him 
as  many  as  four  times  to  go  over  to  my  sample  room. 
If  he  had  made  a  positive  engagement  and  said  that 
he  would  see  me  at  twelve  o'clock  that  night,  it 
would  have  been  all  right;  but  he  would  turn  away 
with  a  grunt  the  subject  of  going  to  look  at  samples, 
not  even  giving  me  the  satisfaction  of  saying  he 
didn't  want  anything  at  all. 

"I  felt  that  I'd  spent  time  enough  in  the  town  so, 
after  supper,  I  brought  over  a  bunch  of  soft  hats 
under  my  arm,  and  about  nine  o'clock  he  looked  at 
them,  picked  out  a  few  numbers,  and  said  he  had  to 
go  to  lodge.  I  boned  him  about  straw  hats — I  was 
on  my  spring  trip  then. 

"  'Look  at  them  to-morrow,'  he  grunted. 

"I  was  beginning  to  get  tired  of  this  sort  of  thing 
so  next  morning  early  I  went  around  to  see  another 
man  in  the  town.  I'd  made  up  my  mind  I'd  rather 
take  less  business  from  some  one  else  and  get  it  more 
agreeably;  but,  to  my  surprise,  I  sold  this  other  fel- 
low $1,300,  the  best  order  I  took  on  that  trip.  And 
easy !  I  believe  he  was  one  of  the  easiest  men  I  ever 
did  business  with;  and  his  credit  was  Ai.  He  had 

220 


'HE  CAME  IN  WITH   HIS  BEFORE- 
BREAKFAST  GROUCH." 


Tales  of  the  Road 

no  objections  whatever  to  my  doing  business  with 
others  in  the  same  town,  because  he  wished  his  goods 
put  up  under  his  own  name  rather  than  with  our 
brands  on  them,  so  this  really  made  no  interference. 

"I  finished  with  him  in  the  morning  about  n  130. 
On  going  over  to  my  other  man's  store  I  found  that 
he  was  still  in  bed.  Pretty  soon  he  came  in  with  his 
before-breakfast  grouch.  It  was  afternoon  before 
I  got  him  over  to  my  sample  room.  Meantime  I 
had  gone  to  sell  another  man  and  sold  him  a  bunch 
of  children's  and  misses'  goods — such  stuff  as  a 
clothing  house  has  no  use  for. 

"After  I'd  taken  the  dogging  of  the  gruff  old 
codger  for  a  couple  of  hours — he  kicked  on  every- 
thing, the  brims  being  a  quarter  of  an  inch  too  wide 
or  too  narrow,  and  the  crowns  not  shaped  exactly 
right — I  finally  closed  the  order  and  handed  him  his 
copy.  As  he  put  his  hand  on  the  door-knob  to  go, 
he  cast  his  eye  over  a  pile  of  misses'  sailors  and 
growled:  'Well,  who  bought  them?' 

"I  told  him  that  I'd  sold  a  little  handful  of  goods 
to  a  drygoods  store,  knowing  there  would  be  no  in- 
terference as  he  didn't  carry  that  line  of  goods. 

"  'Well,  a  man  that  sells  me  can't  do  business 
with  no  other  man  in  this  town,'  he  grunted,  and 
with  this,  slammed  the  door  and  left  me.  He  didn't 
know  that  I'd  sold  his  competitor  a  $1,300  bill. 

"When  I  was  about  half  through  packing  up,  the 
old  growler's  clerk,  who  was  a  gentlemanly  young 

221 


Tales  of  the  Road 

fellow,  came  in  and  said  to  me,  hesitatingly:  'Old 
man,  I  hate  to  tell  you,  but  the  boss  told  me  to  come 
over  and  say  to  you  not  to  ship  that  bill  of  goods  he 
gave  you  unt\\  he  ordered  it.  He  is  very  unreason- 
able, you  know,  and  is  kicking  because  you  sold  some 
stuff  to  the  drygoods  man  down  the  street.' 

"  'Thank  you,  Gus,'  said  I  to  the  clerk.  I  was 
mad  as  fire,  but  not  at  him,  of  course.  'Now,  Gus, 
the  old  man  has  sent  me  a  message  by  you.  I'll  let 
you  take  one  back  to  him.  Now,  mind  you,  you  and 
I  are  good  friends,  Gus.  Tell  him  I  say  he  can  take 
his  business,  including  this  order,  and  go  with  it  now 
and  forever  clean  smack  back  to — well,  you  know 
the  rest.  Then  tell  him,  Gus,  that  I've  sold  not  only 
this  drygoods  man  a  bill  but  also  his  strongest  com- 
petitor over  $1,300  worth  of  goods.  Tell  him, 
furthermore,  that  I  personally  appreciate  all  the 
favors  he  has  done  for  me  in  the  past,  in  a  personal 
way;  that  I  have  enjoyed  visiting  with  him;  that 
whenever  I  corne  back  to  this  town  again  in  the 
future,  I  shall  come  in  to  see  him;  that  if  I  can  do 
him  a  personal  favor  in  any  way,  at  any  time,  any- 
where, I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  do  so,  but  that, 
absolutely,  our  business  relationship  is  at  an  end.' 

"  'All  right,'  said  Gus.  'I'll  repeat  to  the  old 
man  every  word  you've  said.  I'm  glad  you've  called 
him  down.  It'll  do  him  good.' 

"And  you  bet  your  life  I  tore  his  order  up  with- 
out sending  it  in  to  the  house  and  drew  a  line 


Tales  of  the  Road 

through  his  name  on  my  book,  and  have  never 
solicited  his  business  since." 

uYou  did  him  just  exactly  right,"  said  the  neck- 
tie man.  "While  I  squared  myself  with  my  friend 
Morris,  I  was  once  independent  with  a  customer 
who  cancelled  an  order  on  me.  He  came  in  to  meet 
me  at  Kansas  City.  Two  more  of  the  boys  were 
also  there  then.  He  placed  orders  with  all  of  us. 
His  name  was  Stone.  The  truth  is  he  came  in  and 
brought  his  wife  and  boy  with  him  just  because  he 
wanted  to  take  a  little  flyer  at  our  expense.  We  had 
written  him  telling  him  that  we'd  pay  his  expenses 
if  he  would  come  in.  He  went  ahead  and  took  a 
few  hours  of  our  time  to  place  his  orders.  At  the 
time  he  did  so  I  merely  thought  him  a  good  liberal 
buyer  but,  as  I  now  look  back  at  the  way  he  bought, 
he  slipped  down  most  too  easy  to  stick. 

"Sure  enough,  in  three  or  four  weeks  the  firm 
wrote  me  that  Stone  had  cancelled  his  order,  stating 
that  he  believed  he  had  enough  goods  on  hand  to 
run  him,  that  season,  but  that  possibly  very  late  he 
might  reinstate  the  order. 

"The  fellow  was  good  so  I  thought  it  wouldn't 
do  very  much  harm  to  try  to  get  him  to  take  the 
goods.  However,  I  employed  very  different  tactics 
from  those  I  used  with  my  friend  Morris.  I  wrote 
him  this  way: 

"  'My  dear  Brother  Stone :  I  have  received  a 
letter  from  the  firm  stating  that  you  have  cancelled 

223 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  order  which  you  placed  with  me  in  Kansas  City. 
You  know  not  how  much  I  thank  you  for  cancelling 
this  order.  It  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to 
sell  you  this  bill  of  goods,  and  now  that  you  have 
cancelled  it,  I  want  you  to  be  sure  and  make  your 
cancellation  stick  because  then,  sooner  than  I  had 
really  expected,  I  shall  have  that  same  old  pleasure 
over  again. 

"  'It  isn't  always  profit  that  a  man  should  look  for 
in  business.  What  good  does  it  do  him  to  make  a 
whole  lot  of  money  unless  he  can  feel  good  on  the 
inside?  The  feel  is  about  all  there  is  in  life  anyway. 

"  'Now  in  future,  you  go  right  on  as  you  have  in 
the  past,  buy  your  goods  from  the  other  fellow.  He 
will  not  charge  you  a  great  deal  more  for  them  than 
I  would  and  your  loss  will  not  be  very  great  in  that 
regard;  but  each  time  that  I  come  around  be  sure  to 
take  a  lot  of  my  time  and  place  an  order  with  me, 
even  if  you  do  cancel  it. 

"  'Don't  even  trouble  yourself  about  returning  the 
fifteen  dollars  expense  money  that  was  given  you, 
because  the  pleasure  I  had  with  you  was  worth  that 
much  to  me  alone.  I  shall  square  this  matter  myself 
with  the  other  boys.  No,  I  won't  do  that  because 
I'm  sure  that  they  feel  in  this  matter  just  as  I  do. 

"  'With  very  kindest  regards,  and  ever  at  your 
service,  believe  me,  Brother  Stone, 

"  'Truly  yours, 


uHe  wired  the  house  to  ship  the  bill  and  sent  the 
message  paid." 

"That  was  what  I  call  a  grafter,"  said  one  of  the 
boys. 

224 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Yes,  you  bet  your  life,"  said  the  wall  paper  man. 

"I  myself  once  cured  a  man  of  the  cancelling 
habit.  You  know  there  are  some  merchants  over 
the  country  who  are  afflicted  with  this  disease. 

"I  had  heard  of  a  druggist  out  in  Pennsylvania 
who  was  noted  for  placing  an  order  one  morning 
and  cancelling  it  that  very  night.  He  had  done  a 
trick  of  this  kind  on  me  once  and  I'd  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  was  going  to  play  even  with  him.  I 
walked  him  over  to  my  sample  room  early  in  the 
morning.  I  had  my  samples  all  spread  out  so  that 
I  could  handle  him  quickly.  There  were  a  lot  of  new 
patterns  out  that  season — flaming  reds,  greens, 
cherry  colors,  blues,  ocean  greens — all  sorts  of 
shades  and  designs. 

"The  druggist  picked  out  a  cracking  good  order. 
He  took  a  copy  of  it  himself  in  his  own  book.  As 
we  were  working  the  wind  turned  the  sheets  of  his 
memo,  book  and  I  saw  that  he  had  in  it  a  copy  of  an 
order  in  my  line  to  another  firm.  This  he  had  given 
only  a  few  days  before.  Every  season  this  druggist 
would  really  buy  one  big  bill  of  wall  paper,  but  this 
was  his  trick:  He  would  look  at  the  line  of  every 
man  that  came  along.  Sometimes  he  would  place 
six  or  eight  orders  a  season.  After  placing  an  order 
he  would  immediately  cancel  it.  At  his  leisure  he 
would  figure  out  which  order  pleased  him  best  and 
reinstate  that  one. 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  finished  with  him  it  was  close 

225  . 


Tales  of  the  Road 

onto  luncheon  time,  but  I  didn't  do  anything  but  go 
hungry  for  awhile.  I  took  my  notebook,  made  out 
his  order,  as  quickly  as  I  could,  wired  it  into  the 
firm  (it  cost  me  twelve  dollars  to  do  this),  and  told 
them  to  be  absolutely  sure  to  put  all  hands  to  work 
on  that  order  and  ship  it  on  the  four  o'clock  fast 
freight  that  very  day.  I  had  to  be  in  town  the  next 
day.  Soon  after  breakfast  I  went  into  the  druggist's 
store.  I  caught  him  back  at  his  desk.  I  saw  him 
blot  the  ink  on  an  envelope  he  had  just  addressed. 
About  this  time  a  lady  came  in  to  get  a  prescription 
filled.  As  the  druggist  turned  his  back  I  quickly 
lifted  the  blotter  and,  seeing  that  the  letter  was 
addressed  to  my  firm,  let  it  cover  the  envelope  again. 
I  knew  this  was  a  cancellation  letter. 

uAfter  the  lady  had  gone  out  with  her  medicine,  I 
asked  the  druggist  to  show  me  some  hair  brushes 
which  were  in  the  case  at  the  other  end  of  the  store 
from  the  desk.  I  made  up  my  mind  that  it  was 
going  to  take  me  longer  to  buy  that  hairbrush  than 
it  did  the  old  man  to  buy  my  bill  of  wall  paper.  I 
was  getting  his  time.  But  I  didn't  rub  my  fingers 
over  many  bristles  before  up  backed  a  dray  loaded 
to  the  guards  with  the  goods  from  my  firm.  The 
drayman  came  in  and  handed  the  druggist  the  bill 
of  lading. 

"  What's  this?'  said  he. 

"  'I'm  treed,'  said  the  drayman.  'They're  as  heavy 
as  lead.' 

226 


ft 


TM  TREED,"  SAID  THE  DRAYMAN,  "THEY'RE  AS 
HEAVY  AS  LEAD." 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"With  this  the  drayman  rolled  the  cases  into  the 
druggist's  store.  Well,  sir,  he  was  the  cheapest  look- 
ing fellow  you  ever  saw,  but  he  kept  the  goods,  all 
right,  and  this  cured  him  of  cancelitis." 


227 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CONCERNING   CREDIT   MEN. 

THE  credit  man  was  the  subject  of  our  talk  as 
a  crowd  of  us  sat,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  in 
the  writing-room  of  the  Palace  Hotel  at  San 
Francisco.     The  big  green  palm  in  the  center  of  the 
room  cast,  from  its  drooping  and  fronded  branches, 
shadows  upon  the  red  rugs  carpeting  the  stone  floor. 
This  was  a  peaceful  scene  and  wholly  unfitting  to 
the  subject  of  our  talk. 

"I  would  rather  herd  sheep  in  a  blizzard,"  blurted 
out  the  clothing  man,  "than  make  credits.  Yes,  I 
would  rather  brake  on  a  night  way- freight;  be  a 
country  doctor  where  the  roads  are  always  muddy ;  a 
dray  horse  on  a  granite-paved  street;  anything  for 
me  before  being  a  credit  man !  It  is  the  most  thank- 
less job  a  human  being  can  hold.  It  is  like  being 
squeezed  up  against  the  dock  by  a  big  steamship.  If 
you  ship  goods  and  they're  not  paid  for,  the  house 
kicks;  if  you  turn  down  orders  sent  in,  the  traveling 
man  raises  a  howl.  None  of  it  for  me.  No,  sir!" 
"I  have  always  been  fairly  lucky,"  spoke  up  the 
hat  man.  "I've  never  been  with  but  two  houses  in 
my  life  and  I've  really  never  had  any  trouble  with 

228 


Tales  of  the  Road 

my  credit  men.  They  were  both  reasonable,  broad- 
minded,  quick-witted,  diplomatic  gentlemen.  If  a 
man's  credit  were  doubtful  in  their  minds,  they 
would  usually  ask  me  about  him,  or  even  wire  me, 
sometimes,  if  an  order  were  in  a  rush,  to  tell  them 
what  I  thought  of  the  situation.  And  they  would 
always  pay  attention  to  what  I  said." 

"Well,  you  are  one  in  a  hundred,"  spoke  out  the 
clothing  man.  "You  ought  to  shake  hands  with 
yourself.  You  don't  know  what  a  hard  time  I've 
had  with  the  various  men  who've  made  credits  on 
the  goods  I  have  sold. 

"The  credit  man,  you  know,  usually  grows  up 
from  office  boy  to  cashier,  and  from  cashier  to  book- 
keeper, from  bookkeeper  to  assistant  credit  man  and 
then  to  credit  man  himself.  Most  of  them  have-" 
never  been  away  from  the  place  they  were  born  in, 
and  about  all  they  know  is  what  they  have  learned 
behind  the  bars  of  their  office  windows.  You 
couldn't,  for  all  sorts  of  money,  hire  a  man  who  has 
been  on  the  road,  to  be  a  credit  man.  He  can  get 
his  money  lots  easier  as  a  salesman;  he  has  a  much- 
better  chance  for  promotion,  too.  Still,  if  the  sales- 
man could  be  induced  to  become  a  credit  man,  he 
would  make  the  best  one  possible,  because  he  would 
understand  that  the  salesman  himself  can  get  closer 
to  his  customer  than  any  one  else  and  can  find  out 
things  from  him  that  his  customer  would  not  tell  to 
any  one  else  and,  having  been  on  the  road  himself, 

229 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  would  know  that  really  about  the  only  reliable 
source  of  information  concerning  a  merchant  is  the 
salesman  himself. 

uWhen  a  merchant  has  confidence  enough  in  a 
man  to  buy  goods  from  him — and  he  will  not  buy 
goods  from  him  unless  he  has  that  confidence — he 
will  tell  him  all  about  his  private  affairs.  He  will 
tell  him  how  much  business  he  is  doing,  how  much 
profit  he  is  making,  how  much  he  owes,  what  are  his 
future  prospects,  and  everything  of  that  kind.  The 
credit  man  who  was  once  a  salesman  would  also 
know  that  these  commercial  agency  books — the 
bibles  of  the  average  credit  man — don't  amount  to  a 
rap.  For  my  own  part,  I  wish  old  Satan  had  every 
commercial  agency  book  on  earth  to  chuck  into  the 
furnace,  when  he  goes  below,  to  roast  the  reporters 
for  the  agencies.  A  lot  of  them  will  go  there  be- 
cause a  lot  of  reports  are  simply  outright  slander. 
Commercial  agencies  break  many  a  good  merchant. 
The  heads  of  the  agencies  aim  to  give  faithful  re- 
ports, but  they  haven't  the  means. 

uNow,  just  for  example,  let  me  tell  you  what  they 
did  to  a  man  who  did  one  of  my  customers  when  he 
first  started  in  business.  This  man  had  been  a  clerk 
for  several  years  in  a  clothing  store  over  in  Wyo- 
ming. He  was  one  of  the  kind  that  didn't  spend  his 
money  feeding  slot  matchines,  but  saved  up  $3,500 
in  cold,  hard  cash.  This  was  enough  for  him  to 
start  a  little  clothing  shack  of  his  own. 

230 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Now,  Herbert  was  a  straight,  steady  boy.  I 
recommended  him  to  my  house  for  credit.  He 
didn't  owe  a  dollar  on  earth.  He  bought  about  five 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  goods  and  was  able  to  dis- 
count his  bills,  right  from  the  jump.  Now,  what 
do  you  suppose  one  of  the  commercial  agencies  said 
about  him?  Mind  you,  he  had  for  four  or  five  years 
run  his  uncle's  store.  The  uncle  was  sick  and  left 
things  really  in  the  hands  of  Herbert.  The  agency 
said  he  was  worth  not  over  five  hundred  dollars  and 
that  he  was  no  good  for  credit. 

"I,  of  course,  learned  of  this  through  our  office 
and  I  told  Herbert  all  about  it  and  insisted  that  he 
ought  to  get  that  thing  straightened  out.  He  said, 
when  I  spoke  to  him  of  it,  'Why,  I  did  fill  out  the 
blanks  that  they  sent  in  to  me — told  them  the 
straight  of  it,  exactly  what  I  had,  $3,500,  and  they 
surely  reported  it  as  I  gave  it  to  them.'  'No,  they 
haven't  done  any  such  thing,  Herbert,  because  I 
looked  into  the  matter  myself  when  I  was  last  in 
your  office/ 

"Well,  Herbert  had  no  trouble  in  getting  goods 
from  the  houses  whose  salesmen  he  knew  real  well, 
but  he  had  to  suffer  the  inconvenience  of  having  a 
great  many  orders  turned  down  that  he  placed— 
either  that  or  else  he  was  written  that  he  would  have 
to  pay  cash  in  advance  before  shipping.  It  caused 
him  a  whole  lot  of  worry.  The  boy — well,  he  wasn't 
such  a  boy  after  all,  he  was  nearly  thirty  years  old 

231 


Tales  of  the  Road 

and  strictly  capable — was  worried  about  all  this,  and 
I  saw  it.  I  told  him,  'Look  here,  Herbert,  you  must 
get  this  thing  straightened  up.  You  write  the  agen- 
cies again  and  tell  them  just  how  you  stand  and  that 
you  want  them  to  give  you  the  proper  sort  of  a  re- 
port/ 

"It  wasn't  a  great  while  before  the  representa- 
tive of  this  agency  came  around.  Herbert  went  at 
him  hammer  and  tongs  for  not  doing  him  justice — 
then  what  do  you  think  that  fellow  did  ?  Nothing ! 

"In  spite  of  all  this  Herbert  paid  up  all  his  bills 
all  right  and  soon  established  his  credit  by  being 
able  to  give  references  to  first-class  firms  who  stated 
that  he  paid  them  promptly.  So,  he  became  inde- 
pendent of  the  agencies  altogether  and  when  they 
asked  him  for  any  statement  after  that,  he  told  them, 

'Go  to .'  Now,  of  course,  this  wasn't  the  thing 

for  him  to  do. 

"A  merchant  should  see  that  the  commercial 
agencies  give  him  a  good  report  because,  if  he 
doesn't,  he  is  simply  cutting  off  his  nose  to  spite  his 
face.  If  he  ever  starts  to  open  a  new  account  with 
some  house,  the  first  thing  the  credit  man  of  that 
concern  will  do,  when  he  gets  his  order,  will  be  to 
turn  to  his  'bibles1  and  see  how  the  man  is  rated. 
These  commercial  agencies  are  going  to  say  some- 
thing about  a  man.  That's  the  way  they  make  their 
living.  If  they  don't  say  something  good,  they  will 
say  something  indifferent  or  positively  bad.  So, 

232 


Tales  of  the  Road 

what's  the  merchant  to  do  but  truckle  to  them  and 
take  chances  on  their  telling  the  truth  about  him?" 

"Yes,  you're  right,"  chimed  in  the  drygoods  man, 
"but  even  then,  try  as  hard  as  he  will,  the  merchant 
can't  get  justice,  sometimes.  One  of  my  customers, 
who  is  one  of  the  most  systematic  business  men  I 
know  of,  for  years  and  years  had  no  report.  Half 
the  goods  he  bought  was  turned  down  simply  be- 
cause the  agent  in  his  town  for  the  commercial 
agency  was  a  shyster  lawyer  who  had  it  in  for  him. 
And  he  had  all  he  could  do  to  retain  his  credit.  Just 
to  show  you  how  good  the  man  was  in  the  opinion 
of  those  with  whom  he  did  business,  let  me  say  that 
right  after  he  had  had  a  big  fire  and  had  suffered  a 
big  loss,  one  firm  wired  him:  Tour  credit  is  good 
with  us  for  any  amount.  Buy  what  you  will,  pay 
when  you  can.' 

"Well,  sir,  this  man  was  mad  as  fire  at  the 
agencies,  and  for  years  and  years  he  would  have  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  do  with  them,  but  I  finally  told 
him:  'Look  here,  Dick;  now  this  thing  is  all  right 
but  there's  no  use  fighting  those  fellows.  Why 
don't  you  get  what's  coming  to  you?'  And  I  talked 
him  into  the  idea  of  getting  out  after  a  right  rating, 
and  told  him  how  to  go  about  it. 

"One  day,  in  another  town  where  he  had  started 
a  branch  store,  he  met  one  of  the  representatives  of 
the  agency  that  had  done  him  dirt,  and  said  to  him : 
'Now,  Mr.  Man,  I  sometimes  have  occasion  to  know 

233 


Tales  of  the  Road 

how  various  firms  that  I  do  business  with  over  the 
country  stand,  and  if  it  doesn't  cost  too  much  to  have 
your  book,  I'd  like  to  subscribe.'  'Well,  that  won't 
cost  you  a  great  deal,'  said  the  agent.  My  friend 
subscribed  for  the  agency  book,  and  in  the  next  issue 
he  was  reported  as  being  worth  from  ten  to  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  Another  agency  soon  chimed  in 
and  had  him  listed  as  worth  from  five  to  ten  thou- 
sand and  with  third-grade  credit.  Now,  one  or  the 
other  of  these  wrong — and  the  truth  of  the  matter  is 
that  both  of  them  had  slandered  him  for  years; 
he  hadn't  made  ten  to  twenty  thousand  dollars 
in  ninety  days.  And  just  to  show  you  how  much  good 
that  rating  did  my  friend,  he  soon  began  to  receive 
circulars  and  catalogues  galore  from  houses  which, 
before  that  time,  had  turned  him  down." 

"The  worst  feature  of  turning  down  an  order," 
said  the  dry  goods  man,  uis  that  when  you  have  an 
order  turned  down  you  also  have  a  customer  turned 
away.  I  was  waiting  on  a  man  in  the  house.  He 
was  from  out  West.  He  was  about  half  through 
buying  his  bill.  The  account  was  worth  over  twelve 
thousand  a  year  to  me.  He  thought  so  much  of  my 
firm  that  he  had  his  letters  sent  in  my  care  and  made 
our  store  his  headquarters  while  in  the  city.  One 
morning  when  he  came  in  to  get  his  mail  I  saw  him 
open  one  of  his  letters  and,  as  he  read  it,  a  peculiar 
expression  came  over  his  face.  When  he  had  read 
his  mail  I  asked  him  if  he  was  ready  to  finish  up. 

234 


<:,„*' 


•  WHAT  EXPLANATION  HAVE  YOU  TO  MAKE  OF  THIS.  SIR  ? ' 


Tales  of  the  Road 

He  said  to  me,  'No,  Harry,  I  want  to  go  over  and 
see  your  credit  man.' 

"I  went  with  him.  One  of  the  old  man's  sons, 
who  had  just  come  back  from  college,  had  taken 
charge  of  the  western  credits.  The  old  man  would 
have  been  a  great  deal  better  off  if  he'd  pensioned 
the  kid  and  put  one  of  the  packers  in  the  office,  in- 
stead. My  customer  went  up  to  the  credit  boy  and 

said  to  him:  'Now,  Mr.  ,  I've  just  received  a 

letter  from  home  stating  that  you've  drawn  on  me 
for  three  hundred  and  eighty-five  dollars.  What  ex- 
planation have  you  to  make  of  this,  sir?  I  have  al- 
ways, heretofore,  discounted  every  bill  that  I  have 
bought  from  this  establishment,  and  this  bill  for 
which  you  have  drawn  on  me  is  not  yet  due.' 

'  'I'll  look  the  matter  up,'  said  the  young  credit 
man.  He  looked  over  his  books  a  few  minutes  and 
then  tried  to  make  some  sort  of  an  explanation  in  a 
half-haughty  kind  of  a  way.  My  customer  inter- 
rupted him  right  in  the  midst  of  his  explanation  and 
said,  'Well,  you  needn't  say  anything  more  about 
this,  sir.  Just  see  what  I  owe  you.' 

"This  was  looked  up  and  my  customer  right  then 
and  there  wrote  his  check  for  what  he  owed  and 
said  to  me : 

'  'Old  man,  I'm  mighty  sorry  to  have  to  do  this, 
but  I  cannot  interpret  this  gentleman's  conduct 
(pointing  to  the  credit  man)  to  mean  anything  but 
that  my  credit  is  no  longer  good  here.  I  shall  see 

235 


Tales  of  the  Road 

if  there  is  not  some  one  else  in  the  city  who  will  trust 
me  as  I  thought  that  this  firm  was  willing  to  trust 
me.  This  thing  hurts  me !' 

"I  couldn't  explain  matters  in  any  way,  and  my 
customer — and  my  friend! — walked  out  of  the  store 
and  has  never  been  back  since.  That  piece  of  Tom 
foolery  on  the  part  of  our  snob  of  a  credit  man  lost 
the  house  and  me  an  account  worth  over  twelve 
thousand  dollars  a  year." 

uThat  fellow,"  broke  in  the  clothing  man,  ushould 
have  got  the  same  dose  that  was  once  given  a  credit 
man  in  the  house  I  used  to  work  for.  He  had  been 
turning  down  order  after  order  on  good  people,  for 
all  of  us  boys.  When  we  came  home  from  our  fall 
trip  we  were  so  dissatisfied  that  we  got  together  and 
swore  that  we  would  not  sign  a  contract  with  the 
house  unless  the  credit  man  they  had  was  fired.  We 
all  signed  a  written  agreement  to  this  effect.  Also, 
we  agreed,  upon  our  honor,  that  if  one  of  us  was 
fired  for  taking  the  stand,  we  would  all  go. 

"Now,  you  know,  boys,  it  is  the  salesmen  that 
make  the  house.  The  house  may  have  a  line  of  goods 
that  is  strictly  it,  but  unless  they  have  good  salesmen 
on  the  road  they  might  as  well  shut  up  shop.  A 
salesman,  of  course,  gets  along  a  great  deal  better 
with  a  good  line  than  he  does  with  a  poor  one,  but  a 
wholesale  house  without  a  line  of  first-class  repre- 
sentatives cannot  possibly  succeed.  And  the  house 
knows  this,  you  bet. 

236 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  sir,  I  was  the  first  salesman  the  old  man 
struck  to  make  a  contract  with  for  the  next  year.  I\ 
had  been  doing  first  rate,  making  a  good  salary  and 
everything  of  that  kind,  and  when  the  old  man  called 
me  into  the  sweat-box,  he  said  to  me : 

"  'Well,  I  suppose  we  haven't  very  much  to  talk 
over.  What  you  have  done  has  been  satisfactory  to 
us,  and  I  hope  we've  been  satisfactory  to  you.  If  it 
suits  you  we  will  just  continue  your  old  contract.1 

"  'There  will  have  to  be  one  condition  to  it,'  said  I 
to  the  old  man.  'Well,  what's  that?'  'I  simply  will 
not  work  for  this  establishment  if  the  fool  credit  man 
that  you  have  here  is  to  continue.  He  has  taken 
hundreds  of  dollars  out  of  my  pocket  this  year  by 
turning  down  orders  on  good  people  who  are  worthy 
of  credit.  Now,  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  as  to 
his  salary  if  he  turns  down  good  people;  in  fact,  if  he 
is  in  doubt  about  any  man  at  all,  or  even  the  least  bit 
skittish,  what  does  he  do  but  turn  him  down  ?  This 
is  nothing  out  of  his  jeans,  but  it's  taking  shoes  away 
from  my  babies,  and  I  simply  won't  stand  for  it.' 

"The  long  and  short  of  it  was  that  I  didn't  sign 
with  the  old  man  that  day  but  he  soon  'caved'  after 
he  had  talked  with  a  few  more  of  the  boys — one  of 
whom  told  him  point  blank  that  we  would  all  quit 
unless  he  gave  the  credit  man  his  walking  papers. 
And,  you  bet  your  life,  the  credit  man  went  and  to- 
day he  is  where  he  ought  to  be — keeping  books  at  a 
hundred  a  month !" 

237 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"It  is  not  alone  against  the  credit  man  who  turns 
down  orders  that  I  have  a  grudge,"  said  the  furnish- 
ing goods  man,  "but  also  against  the  fellow  who 
monkeys  with  old  customers.  If  there  is  anything 
that  makes  a  customer  sour  it  is  to  be  drawn  on  by  a 
firm  that  he  has  dealt  with  for  a  long  time.  Some 
of  the  merchants  out  in  the  country,  you  know,  get 
themselves  into  the  notion  of  thinking  that  the  house 
they  deal  with  really  loves  them.  They  don't  know 
what  a  cold-blooded  lot  our  houses  really  are.  What 
they're  all  looking  for  is  the  coin  and  they  don't  care 
very  much  for  a  man  when  they  believe  he  can't  pay 
his  bills.  I  know  I  never  felt  cheaper  in  my  life  than 
I  did  last  trip.  I  went  into  an  old  customer's  store 
and  what  should  I  see  upon  his  shelves  but  another 
man's  goods.  I  felt  as  if  somebody  had  hit  me  be- 
tween the  eyes  with  a  mallet,  for  he  was  a  man  I  had 
nursed  for  four  or  five  years  and  brought  him  up  to 
be  a  good  customer.  He  had  a  sort  of  a  racket  store 
when  I  started  with  him — groceries,  tin  pans,  eggs, 
brooms,  a  bucket  of  raw  oysters,  and  all  that  sort  of 
stuff.  One  day  I  said  to  him,  'Why  don't  you  throw 
out  this  junk  and  go  more  into  the  clothing  and  fur- 
nishing goods  business?  Lots  cleaner  business  and 
pays  a  great  deal  more  profit.  Furthermore,  this  line 
of  goods  is  sold  on  long  datings  and  you  can  stretch 
your  capital  much  further  than  in  handling  other 
lines.' 

"Well,  sir,  he  talked  with  me  seriously  about  the 

238 


Tales  of  the  Road 

matter  and  from  that  time  on  he  began  to  drop  out 
the  tin  pan  and  grocery  end  of  his  line.  When  I  saw 
he  was  doing  this,  I  asked  him  to  let  me  have  the 
hook  in  the  ceiling  from  which  for  so  long  had  swung 
his  bunch  of  blackening  bananas,  so  I  could  have  a 
souvenir  of  his  past  folly !  I  had  worked  him  up  until 
his  account  was  strictly  a  good  one. 

"In  fact,  he  prospered  so  well  with  this  store  that 
after  a  while  he  had  started  another  one.  When  he 
did  this  he,  of  course,  stretched  his  capital  a  little  and 
depended  upon  his  old  houses  to  take  care  of  him. 
He  had  always  discounted  his  bills  in  full,  sometimes 
even  anticipating  payments  and  making  extra  dis- 
counts. 

"I  was  tickled  to  sell  him  about  twice  as  much  as 
usual,  on  one  of  my  trips.  It  was  just  ninety  days 
after  this  when  I  got  around  again  and  saw  the  other 
fellow's  goods  in  the  store.  When  I  looked  at  the 
strange  labels  I  felt  like  some  fellow  had  landed  me 
one  on  the  jaw.  You  know  it  hurts  to  lose  a  cus- 
tomer, especially  if  he  is  one  that  you  have  fed  on  the 
bottle  and  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you  personally. 

"Well,  when  I  saw  the  other  stuff,  all  I  could  do 
was  to  march  right  up  and  say,  'Well,  Fred,  the 
other  fellow's  been  getting  in  his  work,  I  see.  What's 
the  matter?  The  sooner  we  get  through  with  the  un- 
pleasant part  of  it,  the  better.'  'Now,  there  isn't 
anything  the  matter  with  you,  old  man,'  said  my  cus- 

239 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tomer.  'Come  up  here  in  the  office.  I  want  to  show 
you  how  your  house  treated  me.' 

"And  there  he  showed  me  a  letter  he  had  received 
from  the  house  stating  that  he  must  pay  up  his  old 
account  before  they  would  ship  him  any  more  goods; 
and  the  old  bill  was  one  which  was  dated  May  ist, 
four  months,  and  was  not  due  until  September  ist. 
They  wrote  him  this  before  the  first  of  June,  at  which 
time  he  was  entitled  to  take  off  six  per  cent.  He 
simply  sent  a  check  for  what  he  owed  them  and,  to  be 
sure,  wrote  them  to  cancel  his  order.  There  was  a 
good  bill  and  a  loyal  customer  gone — all  on  account 
of  the  credit  man." 

"Once  in  a  while,  though,"  said  the  shoe  man, 
"you  strike  a  fellow  that  will  take  a  thing  of  this 
sort  good-naturedly,  but  they  are  rare.  I  once  had  a 
customer  down  in  Missouri  who  got  a  little  behind 
with  the  house.  The  credit  man  wrote  him  just  about 
the  same  sort  of  a  letter  that  your  man  received,  but 
my  friend,  instead  of  getting  mad,  wrote  back  a  let- 
ter to  the  house,  something  like  this : 

'  'Dear  House :  I've  been  buying  goods  from  you 
for  a  long  time.  I  have  paid  you  as  well  as  I  knew 
how.  You  know  I  am  pretty  green.  I  started  in  life 
pulling  the  cord  over  a  mule  and  when  I  made  a 
little  money  at  this  I  started  a  butcher  shop.  My 
neighbors  who  sold  other  stuff,  drygoods  and  things 
of  that  sort,  it  looked  to  me  didn't  have  much  more 
sense  than  I,  and  they  lived  in  nice  houses  and  had 
sprinklers  and  flowers  in  their  yards.  So  it  looked  to 

240 


Tales  of  the  Road 

me  like  that  was  a  good  business  to  go  into.  I  tried 
my  hand  at  it  and  have  got  on  fairly  well.  Of  course, 
I  have  been  a  little  slow,  you  know,  being  fool  enough 
to  think  everybody  honest  and  to  do  a  credit  business 
myself. 

4  'Now  I  really  want  to  thank  you  for  telling  me  I 
must  pay  up  before  I  can  get  any  more  goods.  I  kind 
of  look  on  you  people  as  my  friends,  I  have  dealt  with 
you  so  long,  and  if  you  are  getting  a  little  leery  about 
me,  why  I  don't  know  what  in  the  world  the  other 
fellows  that  don't  care  anything  about  me  must  be 
beginning  to  think.  When  I  got  your  letter  telling 
me  to  pay  up  before  you  would  ship  the  bill  I  had 
bought,  I  felt  like  I  had  run  into  a  stone  fence,  but 
this  lick  over  the  head  has  really  done  me  a  whole  lot 
of  good  and  I  am  going  to  go  a  little  more  careful 
hereafter. 

"  'Just  now  I  am  not  able  to  dig  up  all  that  I  owe 
but  here  is  my  check  for  a  hundred.  Now,  I  want  to 
keep  out  of  the  hole  after  this  so  you  had  better  cut 
down  the  order  I  gave  your  man  about  a  half.  After 
all,  the  best  friend  that  a  man  has  is  himself,  and 
hereafter  I  am  going  to  try  a  little  harder  to  look 
after  Number  One. 

"  Tours  truly, 

«  t »  M 

"Another  thing  that  makes  it  hard  for  us,"  said 
the  furnishing  man,  "is  to  have  the  credit  man  so  in- 
fernally long  in  deciding  about  a  shipment,  holding 
off  and  holding  off,  brooding  and  brooding,  waiting 
and  waiting,  and  wondering  and  wondering  whether 
they  shall  ship  or  whether  they  shall  not,  and  finally 

241 


Tales  of  the  Road 

getting  the  notion  to  send  the  goods  just  about  the 
time  a  man  countermands  his  order.  A  countermand, 
you  know,  is  always  a  pusher  and  I  would  advise  any 
merchant  who  really  wants  to  get  goods,  to  place  an 
order  and  then  immediately  countermand  it.  When- 
ever he  does  this  the  credit  man  will  invariably  beg 
him  to  take  the  stuff.  Oh,  they're  a  great  lot,  these 
credit  men. 

"I  know  I  once  sold  a  man  who,  while  he  was 
stretching  his  capital  to  the  limit  pretty  far,  was  doing 
a  good  business  and  he  wanted  some  red,  white,  and 
blue  neckties  for  Fourth  of  July  trade.  I  had  sold 
him  the  bill  in  the  early  part  of  May.  About  the 
2Oth  of  June,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  credit  man 
asking  me  to  write  him  further  information  about  my 
man.  Well,  I  gave  it  to  him.  I  sent  him  a  telegram 
that  read  like  this :  'Ship  this  man  today  by  express 
sure.  Heavens  alive,  he  is  good.  You  ought  to 
make  credits  for  a  coffin  house  for  a  while.'  ' 

"The  credit  man  is  usually  bullet-headed  about  al- 
lowances for  another  thing,"  said  the  shoe  man.  His 
kind  will  fuss  around  about  making  little  allowances 
of  a  couple  of  dollars  that  come  out  of  the  house  and 
never  stop  to  think  we  often  spend  that  much  on  sun- 
dries twice  over  every  day.  I  had  a  man  a  great 
while  ago  to  whom  I  had  sold  a  case  of  shoes  that 
were  not  at  all  satisfactory.  I  could  see  that  they 
were  not  when  I  called  upon  him  and  I  simply  told 
him  right  out,  'Look  here,  Mark,  this  stuff  isn't  right. 

242 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Now,  I  wish  to  square  it.  What  will  make  this 
right?'  'Oh,'  he  said,  'I  don't  think  these  shoes  are 
worth  within  two  dollars  a  dozen  of  what  you 
charged  me.'  'No,  they're  not  worth  within  three 
dollars,'  said  I.  'I  will  just  give  you  a  credit  bill  for 
three  dollars  and  call  it  square.'  It  was  nothing 
more  than  right  because  the  stuff  was  bum. 

"I  came  into  the  house  soon  after  this  and,  passing 
the  credit  memo,  into  the  office,  the  credit  man  howled 
as  if  I  were  pulling  his  jaw  tooth.  It  hurt  him  to 
see  that  little  three  dollars  go  on  the  profit  and  loss 
account.  'Well,  I  won't  insist  upon  it,'  said  I.  'I 
will  just  ask  the  man  to  return  the  goods.'  'All 
right,'  he  said. 

"When  I  wrote  out  to  my  man,  I  told  him  the 
truth  about  the  matter, — that  the  house  had  howled 
a  little  because  I  had  made  the  credit  allowance,  and 
to  just  simply  fire  the  stuff  right  back,  but  not  to  for- 
get to  ask  that  he  be  credited  with  the  amount  of 
freight  which  he  had  already  paid  on  the  case  of 
shoes.  It  was  just  a  small  item,  but  what  do  you 
think  the  credit  man  said  when  I  showed  him  my  cus- 
tomer's letter,  asking  for  the  freight?' 

"He  said,  Well,  that  fellow's  mighty  small.'  " 

"I  have  never  had  any  of  these  troubles  that  you 
boys  are  talking  about,"  said  the  hat  man. 

"Lucky  boy!  Lucky  boy!"  spoke  up  the  clothing 
man  in  his  big,  heavy  voice. 

"Yes,  you  bet,"  chimed  in  the  others. 

243 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"It's  a  strange  thing  to  me,"  chimed  in  the  cloth- 
ing man,  "that  credit  men  do  not  exercise  more  com- 
mon sense.  Now,  there  is  one  way,  and  just  one 
way,  in  which  a  credit  department  can  be  properly 
conducted.  The  credit  man  and  the  man  on  the  road 
must  work  in  double  harness  and  pull  together.  The 
salesman  should  know  everything  that  is  going  on  be- 
tween his  house  and  his  customer.  And  when  it 
comes  to  the  scratch,  his  judgment  is  the  judgment 
that  should  prevail  when  any  matter  of  credits  is  to 
be  decided  upon.  The  salesman  should  have  a  copy 
of  every  letter  that  his  customer  writes  his  house,  and 
he  should  be  sent  a  duplicate  of  every  line  that  the 
house  writes  to  the  customer.  He  should  be  kept 
posted  as  to  the  amount  of  shipment  the  house  makes, 
and  he  should  be  notified  whenever  the  customer 
makes  a  remittance.  This  puts  the  salesman  in  posi- 
tion to  know  how  much  to  sell  his  customer,  and 
also  when  to  mark  the  new  bill  he  sells  for  shipment. 
At  the  time  of  making  the  sale,  it  is  very  easy  for 
the  man  on  the  road  to  say  to  his  customer,  'Now 
look  here,  friend,  as  you  haven't  been  quite  able  to 
meet  your  past  obligations  promptly,  suppose  that  we 
stand  off  this  shipment  for  a  little  while  and  give  you 
a  chance  to  get  out  of  the  hole.  I  don't  want  to 
bend  your  back  with  a  big  load  of  debt.'  For  saying 
this,  the  customer  will  thank  his  salesman;  but  the 
house  cannot  write  the  letter  and  say  this  same  thing 
without  making  a  customer  hot. 

244 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"And  another  thing :  If  a  salesman  has  shown  him- 
self strictly  square  in  his  recommendations,  the  sales- 
man's recommendations  regarding  a  shipment  should 
be  followed.  The  salesman  is  the  man — and  the  one 
man — who  can  tell  whether  his  customer  is  playing 
ball  or  attending  to  business.  Now,  for  example, 
not  a  great  while  ago,  I  saw  a  merchant  that  one 
big  firm  in  this  country  thinks  is  strictly  good,  playing 
billiards  on  the  Saturday  before  Christmas.  If  there 
is  any  time  on  earth  when  a  retail  merchant  should 
be  in  his  store,  it  is  on  this  day,  but  here  was  this 
man,  away  from  his  store  and  up  at  the  hotel,  guz- 
zling high  balls  and  punching  ivory.  That  thing 
alone  would  have  been  enough  to  queer  him  with  me 
and  if  I  had  been  selling  him  and  he  was  not  meet- 
ing his  bills  promptly,  I  should  simply  tell  the  house 
to  cut  him  off. 

"The  salesman  also  knows  how  much  business  a 
man  is  doing, — whether  it  is  a  credit  business  and 
all  the  other  significant  details.  The  merchant  will 
take  the  traveling  man  that  he  buys  goods  from,  and 
throw  his  books  and  his  heart  and  everything  wide 
open,  and  tell  him  how  he  stands.  Even  if  he  is  in 
a  little  hole  of  some  kind,  it  is  of  the  traveling  man 
that  he  asks  advice  as  to  how  to  get  out. 

"Again,  the  traveling  man  knows  all  about  the 
trade  conditions  in  his  customer's  town;  whether 
there  has  been  a  good  crop  and  prices  high;  whether 
the  pay  roll  is  keeping  up  or  not;  whether  there  is 

245 


Tales  of  the  Road 

some  new  enterprise  going  to  start  that  will  put  on 
more  men  and  boom  things.  He  knows  all  about 
these  things,  and  he  is  on  the  spot  and  has  a  personal 
interest  in  finding  out  about  them,  if  he  is  honest, 
and  most  salesmen  are.  It  is  to  his  interest  to  be  so. 
And  he  can  give  information  to  the  credit  department 
that  nobody  else  can. 

"The  report  of  a  salesman  to  his  firm  is  worth 
forty  times  as  much  as  these  little  printed  slips  that 
have  been  sent  in  by  some  ninny,  numskull  reporter 
for  a  commercial  agency.  These  fellows,  before  they 
go  around  soliciting  reports  from  merchants,  have 
usually  been  lily-fingered  office  boys  who  have -never 
been  in  a  place  where  a  man  can  learn  much  common 
sense  until  they  have  grown  too  old  to  get  on  to 
things  that  have  come  in  their  way." 

"Yes,  you  bet,"  spoke  up  the  furnishing  goods  man. 
"They  are  the  fellows  who  do  us  boys  on  the  road 
a  whole  lot  of  harm.  If  the  agencies  wanted  to  get 
men  who  would  know  how  to  secure  good,  sound 
reports  from  merchants,  they  should  hire  first-class 
salesmen  and  send  them  out  instead  of  office  boys. 

"The  credit  man,"  he  continued,  "should  do  an- 
other thing.  He  should  not  only  send  to  the  salesman 
the  letter  he  writes,  but  he  should  confer  with  the 
man  on  the  road  before  he  writes.  What  he  should 
do,  if  the  references  the  merchant  gives  return  favor- 
able reports  and  the  salesman  recommends  the  ac- 
count, he  should,  without  going  any  further,  pass  out 

246 


Tales  of  the  Road 

an  order  to  save  himself  a  whole  lot  of  worry.  But 
it  matters  not  how  bad  are  the  reports  from  any 
and  all  sources,  the  credit  man  should  write  the  sales- 
man if  he  is  near,  or  even  wire  him  if  he  is  far  away, 
laying  before  him  the  facts  and  asking  for  further  in- 
formation and  judgment.  I  once  asked  our  credit 
man  to  do  this  but  he  kicked  because  a  telegram 
would  cost  the  house  four  bits.  He  hadn't  stopped 
to  think  that  it  cost  me  out  of  my  own  pocket  from 
ten  to  twenty  dollars  expenses  on  every  order  I  took. 
Oh,  they  are  wise,  these  credit  men ! 

"It  is  strange,  too,  that  credit  men  do  not  average 
better  than  they  do.  If  the  heads  of  firms  really 
knew  what  blunders  their  credit  men  make,  I  believe 
that  two-thirds  of  them  would  be  fired  tomorrow. 
There  isn't  any  way  of  getting  at  their  blunders 
except  through  the  kicking  of  the  traveling  man  and 
when  he  makes  a  howl,  the  heads  of  the  house  usu- 
ally dismiss  him  with,  'You  sell  the  goods  and  we'll 
attend  to  the  rest.' 

"A  really  'broad  minded,  quick  witted,  diplomatic, 
courteous  credit  man,'  as  you  say,  is  worth  a  great 
deal  to  a  house.  They  are  almost  as  rare  as  roses 
on  the  desert.  Now,  just  to  show  you  how  the  credit 
man  and  the  salesman  can  pull  together,  let  me  give 
you  an  example. 

"I  sold  a  man  a  fair  bill  of  goods.  I  knew  he  was 
a  straightforward,  square,  capable  man  of  good  char- 
acter. He  was  a  pusher.  I  was  in  a  rush  and  I  took 

247 


Tales  of  the  Road 

from  him  just  a  brief  statement  of  his  affairs.  I  wrote 
the  house  that  I  thought  well  of  the  man  but  didn't 
especially  recommend  him.  You  see,  if  you  recom- 
mend strongly  every  man  you  sell,  it  is  the  same  as 
recommending  none.  So,  unless  it  comes  to  a  hard 
pinch,  I  say  no  more  than  is  necessary.  Our  credit 
man  got  the  agency  reports  on  this  man,  which  made 
him  out  as  no  good  and  having  no  capital,  and  a 
whole  lot  of  things  of  that  sort  and  he  wrote  the 
man  refusing  to  ship  the  bill.  It  looked  to  him  that 
this  man's  condition  was  so  hopeless  that  it  was  un- 
necessary for  him  to  write  me.  He  simply  turned 
the  order  down  straight  out.  When  I  came  in  and 
went  over  my  list  of  turn-downs,  I  simply  broke  right 
out  and  said  to  the  credit  man,  'Here,  you've  made  a 
bull  on  this.'  'Do  you  really  think  so?'  said  he. 
'Heavens  alive,  yes!  I  know  it.  Why,  this  fellow 
made  five  thousand  dollars  last  year  on  a  saw  mill 
that  he  has.  He  is  in  a  booming  country.  Maybe 
he  had  a  little  bad  luck  in  the  past  but  he  is  a  hustler 
and  sinks  deep  into  the  velvet  every  time  he  takes 
a  step  now.'  'Why,  I  am  awfully  sorry.  What  shall 
I  do  about  it?'  'Leave  it  to  me,'  said  I. 

"I  wrote  out  to  my  man  and  told  him  the  straight 
of  it,  that  the  agencies  had  done  him  a  great  injustice, 
and  for  him  to  write  me  personally  exactly  how  he 
stood  and  that  I  would  see  things  through  for  him  in 
the  office;  that  my  house  meant  him  no  harm;  that 
he  was  a  stranger  to  them,  but  upon  my  recommenda- 

248 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tion,  if  his  statement  were  anything  like  what  I 
thought  it  should  be,  they  would  fill  the  order.  At 
the  same  time,  I  suggested  that  the  bill  be  cut  about 
half  for  the  first  shipment. 

"Well,  sir,  that  man  sent  me  in  his  statement  show- 
ing that  he  not  only  had  merchandise  for  which  he 
owed  very  little,  but  also  over  four  hundred  dollars  in 
the  bank.  I  remember  the  amount.  His  statement 
showed  that  he  had  a  net  worth  of  nearly  eleven 
thousand  dollars, — and  that  man  told  the  truth. 
Now,  this  information  he  would  give  me  direct,  but 
the  house  was  not  able  to  obtain  it  elsewhere. 

"Now,  this  is  a  case,  you  know,  where  there  is 
now  good  feeling  all  around  and  this  is  so  just  be- 
cause the  credit  man  paid  attention  to  the  salesman." 

The  outer  door  of  the  hotel  was  opened.  In  blew 
a  gust  of  wind.  The  green  leaves  of  the  big  palm 
rustled  noisily  as  we  scattered  to  our  rooms,  thankful 
we  were  not  credit  men. 


249 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WINNING  THE  CUSTOMER'S  GOOD  WILL. 

TO  WIN  the  customer's  good  will  is  the  aim  of 
every  successful  salesman. 

"Ah,  but  how  can  I  do  this?"  asks  the 
new  man. 

The  ways  must  be  as  many  as  the  men  he  meets. 
The  dispositions  of  men  are  as  varied  as  their  looks. 
A  kind  word  will  win  one  man  and  a  bluff  another. 
A  generous  deed  will  go  right  into  the  heart  of  one 
merchant;  another  will  resent  it,  thinking  that  the 
man  who  does  him  a  favor  seeks  only  to  buy  his  good 
will.  The  one  thing,  however,  that  the  man  on  the 
road  must  do,  and  always  do,  is  to  gain  the  confidence 
of  the  man  with  whom  he  seeks  to  do  business.  His 
favor  will  as  surely  follow  this  as  day  follows  night. 
The  night  may  sometimes  be  long,  like  that  at  the 
North  Pole,  but  when  day  does  finally  dawn  it  will 
also  be  of  long  duration.  The  man  whose  confi- 
dence it  is  slow  for  you  to  gain,  will  probably  prove 
to  be  the  man  whose  faith  in  you  will  last  the  longest. 

Then,  the  salesman  must  not  only  have  the  knack 
of  getting  the  good  will  of  his  customer  on  first  sight, 
but  he  must  also  possess  patience  and,  if  need  be,  let 

250 


Tales  of  the  Road 

confidence  in  himself  be  a  slow  growth.  He  must  do 
business  from  the  jump  when  he  starts  out  with  sam- 
ples but,  to  be  truly  successful,  his  business  must  al- 
ways grow. 

A  little  group  of  us,  having  come  back  from  our 
trips,  fell  in  together  one  day  at  luncheon  in  Chicago. 
Our  meeting  was  not  planned  at  all,  but  before  the 
first  of  us  had  forgotten  the  sting  of  the  tabasco  on 
our  Blue  Points,  so  many  old  friends  had  foregath- 
ered that  we  had  our  waiters  slide  two  tables  to- 
gether. There  was  quite  a  bunch  of  us.  The  last 
one  to  join  the  party  was  a  dry  goods  man.  He 
was  a  jolly  good  fellow. 

"Hello!  Ed,  Hello  -I"  spoke  up  all  the  boys  at 
once.  "How  are  you?  Just  home?  Sorry  to 
hear  your  old  customer  out  at  Columbus  finally  had 
to  quit  business,"  said  the  clothing  man. 

"Yes;  so  am  I,"  said  Ed.  "He  was  a  mighty 
hard  man  for  me  to^get  started  with  but  when  once 
I  landed  him  he  was  one  of  the  most  faithful  cus- 
tomers I  had.  Do  you  know  that  for  more  than  eight 
years  he  never  bought  a  sou  in  my  line  from  any 
other  man?  It's  too  bad  that  he  had  to  leave  this 
world.  He  was  a  fine  old  gentleman.  I'll  never  for- 
get, though,  the  first  time  I  sold  him.  I  had  been 
calling  on  him  for  three  or  four  years.  His  town 
was  one  of  the  first  ones  I  made  when  I  started  on 
the  road — I  was  not  quite  twenty,  then. 

"He   always   treated  me   courteously — he  was   a 

251 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Southerner,  you  know — but  I  couldn't  get  next  to 
him  to  save  my  life.  One  day  as  I  walked  toward 
his  store,  a  little  German  band  stationed  itself  just 
before  his  door  and  started  in  to  play  Yankee  Doodle. 
I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  this  at  the  time,  but 
when  I  went  up  to  shake  hands  with  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  usual,  I  asked  him  if  there  was  something  in 
my  line  he  wanted.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  was  uncivil  toward  me.  He  said,  'No,  suh,  there 
is  not,'  and  he  turned  and  walked  away.  Well,  there 
was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  to  scoot  as  soon 
as  I  could. 

"I  made  a  sneak  and  went  into  another  store  but 
soon  I  saw  there  was  nothing  there  for  me  and  I 
thought  I  would  run  over  to  the  hotel,  get  my  traps 
together  and  skip  town  by  the  next  train.  I  had  to 
pass  by  the  old  man's  door  again.  The  little  German 
band  was  still  there.  They  had  quit  playing  Yankee 
Doodle  but  were  going  it  good  and  hard  on  *  March- 
ing Through  Georgia.'  I  happened  to  look  into  the 
old  man's  store  and  he  was  pacing  up  and  down  be- 
hind the  counter.  A  bright  idea  struck  me.  I  went 
up  to  the  leader  of  the  band  and  said,  'Look  here, 
Fritz,  can  you  play  Dixie?' 

"  'Deekse  ?'  said  the  big,  fat  Bavarian.  ' Vas  iss 
dass?' 

"I  didn't  know  much  German  but  I  whistled  the 
air  and  made  him  understand  what  I  wanted. 

"  'Ja  wohl,'  said  he. 

252 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  'Then,  here,'  said  I,  handing  him  a  cart  wheel, 
'just  you  stay  right  here  and  give  me  a  dollar's  worth 
of  Dixie, — a  whole  dollar's  worth,  mind  you!' 

"Well,  he  must  have  understood  me  all  right,  for 
the  band  promptly  began  to  play  Dixie.  I  didn't 
know  that  the  old  gentleman  had  seen  me  talking  to 
the  band  leader,  but  he  had  come  to  the  front  door 
to  order  the  band  to  move  on  shortly  after  I  came  up. 

"I  simply  stood  there,  leaning  against  the  store  in 
the  sunshine,  while  the  German  band  blowed  away. 
Well,  sir,  the  fellow  that  played  the  clarionet — when 
he  got  down  to  the  lively  part  of  the  tune — certainly 
did  make  that  little  instrument  sing.  They  didn't 
know  what  Dixie  meant  but  they  played  it  to  a  fare- 
ye-well,  just  the  same! 

"After  a  while  the  old  man  came  to  the  front  door. 
He  saw  me  standing  there  in  the  sunshine.  There 
was  a  smile  on  his  face  as  broad  as  Lake  Michigan. 
Joy  spread  over  his  countenance  in  waves.  When  he 
saw  me  leaning  up  against  the  store,  he  came  right 
out  where  I  was  and  said,  'Look  hyah,  suh;  I  was 
pow'ful  uncivil  to  you  this  mo'nin',  suh.  I  want  to 
beg  yo'  pa'don.  No  gentleman  has  a  right  to  insult 
another,  but  I  was  so  infernally  mad  this  mo'nin' 
when  you  spoke  to  me,  suh,  that  I  couldn't  be  civil. 
That  confounded  Yankee  tune  just  riled  me.  You 
know,  I  was  an  old  confed'rate  soldier,  suh.  The 
wah  is  all  ovah  now  and  I'm  really  glad  the  niggers 
are  free.  The  country's  lots  bettah  off  as  it  is  now. 

253 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Since  I've  been  up  hyah  in  this  country  I've  begun  to 
think  that  Abe  Lincoln  was  a  good  man  and  a  fair 
man,  and  a  friend  to  the  nation;  but,  confound  itl 
ever'  time  I  hyah  'Yankee  Doodle'  or  'Marchin' 
Through  Georgia,'  suh,  I  put  on  mah  unifohm  again 
and  want  to  fight.  It's  pow'ful  ha'd  fo'  a  man  that 
has  woh  the  gray,  suh,  to  forget  the  coloh  of  his 
old  clothes,  try  as  ha'd  as  he  will.  I  want  to  be 
broad-minded,  but,  confound  it !  it  seems  that  I  cyan't, 
suh.' 

"  'Well,  you  are  ahead  of  me  just  one  generation,' 
said  I.  'I  was  born  in  the  North  and  raised  up  here 
but  my  father  was  a  Southern  soldier.' 

"  'What!'  said  the  old  man.  'Why  didn't  yo'  tell 
me  this  befoh,  suh?  Hyah,  I've  been  treatin'  yo' 
like  a  dog,  suh,  all  this  time.  And  your  father  was 
a  confed'rate  soldier,  suh?' 

"  'Yes,  sir,'  said  I.    'He  was  under  Jackson.' 

"  'What !  Stomal  Jackson  ?  Why,  suh,  a  greater 
man  than  Stomal  Jackson  nevah  lived,  suh.  He  was 
a  gentleman  clean  to  the  co'.  Come  right  in,  suh,  and 
sit  down.  I  want  to  talk  to  yo'  some  mo'. 

"  'Now,  you  are  goin'  to  pa'don  me,  suh,  fo'  my 
rudeness  this  mo'nin'.  I  want  you  to  say  that  you 
will.' 

'Why,  to  be  sure,  Colonel,'  said  I.  *I  certainly 
wouldn't  blame  you  for  the  same  feeling  that  I  know 
my  father  had  as  long  as  he  lived.' 

"The  little  Bavarian  band,  according  to  my  in- 

254 


Tales  of  the  Road 

structions,  kept  on  playing  Dixie  so  long  that  the 
fellow  who  blew  the  clarionet  began  to  skip  notes 
and  puff.  I  went  out  and  told  them  that  that  was 
enough  of  that  tune  and  switched  them  onto  S'wanee 
River.  To  the  tune  of  this  old  air,  the  Colonel 
marched  me  up  to  his  house  for  dinner. 

"We  didn't  say  a  word  about  business,  of  course, 
until  after  we  had  returned  to  the  store.  When  we 
came  back  there,  the  old  Colonel  said  to  me,  'Now, 
look  hyah, — let  me  get  yo'  first  name.' 

"  'Ed,'  said  I. 

"  Well,  yo'll  have  to  let  me  call  yo'  "Ed."  Yo're 
lots  younger'n  I  am.  I  can't  do  any  business  with  yo' 
this  trip.  I  have  my  promise  out.  I  told  the  man 
that  I've  been  buyin'  dry  goods  from  that  I'd  give 
him  my  o'der  fo'  this  fall  but  I  don't  think  as  much 
of  him  as  I  do  of  you,  and  hyeahaftah  I  am  going 
to  give  you  my  business.  I  know  that  yo'll  see  that 
yo'  house  treats  me  right  and  I  would  ratheh  deal 
with  a  man  anyway  that  I  have  confidence  in,  suh. 
Now,  you  needn't  hurry,  Ed,  about  gettin'  around 
hyah  next  season,  suh,  because,  sho's  yo'  bawn,  upon 
the  wo'd  of  a  Southern  gentleman,  suh,  yo'  shall  have 
my  business.' ' 

"You  sold  him  next  time?"  asked  one  of  the  boys. 

"You  bet  your  life  I  did,"  said  Ed.  "That  man's 
word  was  good." 

"He  was  a  splendid  old  gentleman,"  spoke  up 
another  one  of  the  boys. 

255 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Yes,"  said  the  clothing  man,  "I  haven't  been 
there  for  four  or  five  years.  He  used  to  have  a 
lovely  little  girl  that  sometimes  came  down  to  the 
store  with  him." 

"Well,"  broke  in  Ed,  "I'm  glad  that  somebody 
besides  myself  has  a  good  opinion  of  her  for  she  is 
to  be  my  wife  next  month." 

"Well,  good  luck  to  you  and  lots  of  happiness,11 
chimed  in  all  the  boys. 

"When  once  you  get  the  good  will  of  one  of  those 
southerners,"  remarked  the  wallpaper  man,  "you 
have  it  for  all  time.  I  don't  wish  to  wave  the  bloody 
shirt — I  am  a  northerner,  myself — but  these  northern 
houses  somehow  don't  know  how  to  handle  the  south- 
ern trade.  I  travel  down  in  Louisiana  and  Missis- 
sippi, and  I  really  dodge  every  time  that  one  of 
my  customers  tells  me  he  is  going  into  the  house. 
Once  I  started  a  customer  down  in  the  Bayou  coun- 
try. I  was  getting  along  well  with  him  and  he  was 
giving  me  a  share  of  his  business.  One  season,  how- 
ever, he  came  into  the  house.  I  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  this  until  I  was  down  there  on  my  next 
trip.  I  went  to  see  him,  as  usual,  expecting  at  least  to 
get  a  fair  order,  but  when  I  asked  him  to  come  over 
to  my  sample  room  he  said,  'Now,  Jack,  I'd  really 
like  to  go  oveh  and  do  some  business  but  I've  already 
bought  my  goods.  I  was  in  to  see  yo'  house  and  when 
I  asked  the  young  man  at  the  do'h  to  see  the  membahs 
of  yo'  firm,  he  went  away  fo'  a  minute  or  two  and 

256 


Tales  of  the  Road 

when  he  came  back,  he  said,  without  bein'  at  all 
polite  about  it,  "They're  busy."  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing mo'h  to  the  young  man  but  I  turned  on  my 
heel  and  went  out  the  do'h.  It  made  me  so  mad 
that  I  do  believe  the  spahks  flew  right  out  of  me.  I 
made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  have  anythin'  mo'h  to 
do  with  such  people  and  that  I  would  buy  mah  wall 
papah  in  New  Yo'k  when  I  got  down  theah.  Now, 
I'm  mighty  sorry  about  this,  Jack,  but  I  really  cyan't 
pat'onize  a  conce'n  that  treated  me  wuss'n  a  niggeh.' 

"I  tried  to  explain  that  the  members  of  my  firm 
were  very  busy,  and  that  they  would  have  been  only 
too  glad  to  see  him  had  they  known  who  he  was,  but 
I  couldn't  do  anything  with  the  old  gentleman  be- 
cause, he  said,  that  he  didn't  wish  to  deal  with  people 
that  would  treat  anybody  that  way.  He  said  he 
thought  every  man  should  at  least  receive  gentle- 
manly treatment." 

"And  you  bet  he's  right  about  that,"  spoke  up 
one  ot  the  boys. 

"Yes,  he  was,"  said  Jack.  "Still  it  was  hard  for 
me  to  let  go.  I  of  course  didn't  say  anything  more 
about  business  to  him  but  there  wasn't  much  going  on 
that  day,  althou'gh  it  was  Saturday,  and  we  visited 
quite  a  while.  You  know  they  always  have  chairs 
in  the  back  end  of  stores  down  south  and  a  customer 
who  comes  in  to  buy  something  is  always  asked  to 
have  a  seat  before  anything  is  said  about  business. 
It's  a  good,  old  sociable  way  and  although  it's  a  little 

257 


Tales  of  the  Road 

slow,  I  like  it.  Traveling  is  pleasant  in  the  south, 
whether  a  man  does  business  or  not,  because  he  al- 
ways receives  courteous  treatment. 

uAs  we  were  talking  along  I  asked  the  old  gentle- 
man where  his  little  girl  was  that  I  had  seen  around 
the  store  on  previous  trips. 

"  Well,  Jack,'  said  he,  Tm  pow'ful  sorry  to  tell 
you  but  I'm  afraid  she's  a  cripple  for  life.  A  hoss 
threw  her  and  stepped  on  her  leg  an'  broke  it  ve'y 
badly  neah  the  knee.  She  has  her  knee  now  in  a 
plaster  Paris  cast  but  I'm  afraid  she'll  be  lame  as 
long  as  she  lives.' 

"Well,  sir,  she  was  a  pretty,  sweet  little  girl,  and 
when  her  father  told  me  about  her  misfortune  I  was 
very  sorry  for  him.  He  couldn't  keep  from  crying 
when  he  told  me  about  it.  I  couldn't  say  much  but 
I  felt  mighty  sorry.  It  isn't  so  bad  for  a  boy  to  be 
crippled  but  if  there's  anything  that  goes  through 
me'  it  is  to  see  a  beautiful  little  girl  walking  along 
on  crutches. 

"I  told  the  old  gentleman  goodbye  and  started 
down  to  the  hotel.  A  block  or  two  away  I  saw  a 
flower  store.  I  said  to  myself,  'Well,  my  firm  has 
treated  my  friend  wrong  but  that's  no  reason  why 
I  should  have  anything  against  him.  I  don't  blame 
him  a  bit.  I'm  just  going  to  send  a  bouquet  up  to 
the  little  girl  anyhow.' 

"So  over  at  the  flower  store  I  passed  out  a  five 
dollar  bill  and  wrote  on  the  card  that  I  sent  with  the 

258 


Tales  of  the  Road 


V 


Marechal  Niel  roses,  'From  a  friend  of  your  father's.' 
"Now,  I  didn't  have  business  in  my  eye,  boys, 
when  I  did  this.  It  was  right  from  the  heart.  I  was 
going  to  Sunday  in  that  town  anyway  and  get  out  on 
a  train  early  Monday  morning.  There  was  a  tough 
hotel  in  the  next  town  I  was  to  strike. 

'That  night,  while  I  was  at  supper,  the  clerk 
came  into  the  dining  room  and  told  me  that  some- 
body wanted  to  talk  to  me  over  the  telephone.  It 
was  the  little  girl's  father.  He  said  to  me,  'Jack,  I 
want  to  thank  you  very  much  for  those  flowers  that 
you  sent  up  to  Mary.  She's  proud  of  them  and  sends 
you  a  kiss;  and  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I'm  proud  of 
this,  Jack, — but  just  to  thank  you  oveh  the  wyah 
isn't  enough.  I  wanted  to  find  out  if  you  were  at 
the  hotel.  I  want  to  come  down  and  shake  yo'  hand. 
Are  yo1  going'  to  be  hyah  tomorrow?'  I  told  him 
I  was  going  to  Sunday  there.  'Well,'  said  the  old 
gentleman,  'I  will  see  you  tomorrow  mo'nin'.  I'll 
come  down  befo'  I  go  to  chu'ch.' 

"When  he  came  down  the  next  morning  I  was 
up  in  my  room  where  my  samples  were.  If  I  could 
have  sold  him  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  I  wouldn't 
have  asked  him  to  look  at  anything,  but  I  did  ask 
him  to  have  a  chair  and  smoke  a  cigar  with  me. 
My  samples  were  in  the  room  where  he  couldn't  keep 
from  seeing  them  and  after  he  had  thanked  me  again 
and  again  and  told  me  how  much  he  appreciated  my 

259 


Tales  of  the  Road 

kindness,  he  fingered  over  a  line  of  goods  of  his  own 
accord,  asking  me  the  prices  on  them. 

"I  said  to  him,  'Now,  look  here,  you  probably 
don't  wish  to  price  any  goods  today,  as  you  are  going 
to  church.  These  are  worth  so  much  and  so  much, 
but  if  you  wish  to  forgive  and  forget  the  discourtesy 
my  house  has  shown  you, — their  line  of  goods  is  first- 
class  ;  there's  none  better  in  the  country ;  nothing  can 
be  said  on  that  score  against  them, — I'll  stay  over 
tomorrow  and  show  you.' 

"  'No,  I  won't  have  you  do  that,'  said  my  friend — 
he  was  my  friend  then — 'Time  is  money  to  a  man 
on  the  road.  If  I  was  going  to  do  any  business  with 
yo'  I  ought  to  have  done  it  yesterday.  I  have  spoiled 
a  day  fo'  you  an'  I  don't  believe  the  Lord  will  hold 
anything  against  me  if  I  do  business  with  you  today. 
You  know  he  makes  allo'ances  when  the  ox  gets  in 
the  mire,  so  get  out  yo'  book,  if  you  will,  suh, — 
an'  I  will  give  you  an  ohdeh.' 

"Before  I  was  through  with  him  my  bill  amounted 
to  over  six  thousand  dollars,  the  biggest  order  I  ever 
took  in  my  life, — and  do  you  know,  we  finished  it 
in  time  for  both  of  us  to  get  up  to  church  just  as 
the  preacher  was  reading  his  text,  and,  singularly 
enough,  the  text  of  the  sermon  that  day  was,  4Do  unto 
others  as  you  would  have  others  do  unto  you/  I  half 
believe  my  friend  had  arranged  this  sermon  with  the 


minister." 


260 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Even  if  I  have  lost  the  twang  in  my  voice," 
spoke  up  the  southerner,  a  furnishing  goods  man. 

"Oh,  come  off  I" 

"Lost  it?"  said  the  clothing  man. 

"Yes,  I  reckon  I  have.  I've  been  up  no'th  long 
enough.  Well,  people  down  in  my  country  are  warm 
hearted  and  courteous,  but  all  the  goodness  in  the 
world  doesn't  dwell  with  them.  I've  found  some 
pow'ful  good  people  up  no'th.  Raisin'  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  a  man,  but  that  isn't  all.  We  find 
good  men  whereveh  we  go,  if  we  look  fo'  them  right. 
Your  tellin'  about  sendin'  flowe's  to  that  little  girl 
reminds  me  of  the  time  when  I  once  sent  some  flowe's, 
but  instead  of  sending  them  to  a  girl,  I  sent  them  to 
a  big  crusty  old  man.  This  man  was,  to  a  great 
extent,  an  exception  to  the  rule  that  I  have  just  laid 
down.  That  is,  he  was  cranky  and  ha'd  to  get  next 
to  for  nearly  ever'body,  and  sometimes  he  was  pretty 
rough  with  me.  But  I  handled  him  fairly  well  and 
always  got  business  out  of  him,  although  sometimes  I 
had  to  use  a  little  jiu  jitsu  to  do  it. 

"Several  seasons  ago — haven't  you  heard  this  story, 
boys  ? — I  was  on  my  way  up  to  his  town,  Deadwood. 
While  I  was  down  at  Broken  Bow,  I  got  a  telegram 
from  the  house  which  read,  "Sam  Shoup  dead" — 
that  was  one  line — and  on  the  next  line  the  message 
read:  "Wood  wants  goods." 

"I  thought  this  was  rather  funny  when  I  got  hold 
of  the  message  for  I  hadn't  sold  this  man  Wood 

261 


Tales  of  the  Road 

for  several  seasons.  He  had  been  a  little  slow  and 
the  house  had  drawn  on  him,  and  I  lost  him.  But 
I  thought  maybe  things  were  all  patched  up  again  and 
so  I  hur'ied  on  up  into  the  Hills  and  over  to  Hot 
Springs  to  see  Wood.  He  handled  lots  of  goods  and 
I  wanted  to  get  there  before  somebody  else  nipped 
him.  Besides,  I  could  double  back  and  catch  Chad- 
ron  and  those  towns  along  there  on  my  return. 

"I  was  ve'y  sor'y  to  heah  that  my  friend  Sam  had 
croaked.  You  know,  after  a  man  has  turned  up  his 
toes  you  can  see  a  whole  lot  of  good  points  about 
him  that  always  escaped  yo'  notice  befo' ;  so  at  Broken 
Bow  I  wiahed  the  flo'ist  up  in  Deadwood  to  send 
ten  dollars  worth  of  roses  with  my  card  on  over  to 
Mrs.  Shoup,  that  I  would  see  him  in  a  few  days  and 
pay  him  fo'  them.  I  also  sent  a  telegram  to  the 
widow,  extending  my  heartfelt  sympathy. 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  got  into  the  Springs  I  had 
my  trunk  brought  right  up,  opened  my  samples,  befo' 
I  went  over  to  see  my  friend  Wood.  When  I  went 
into  his  sto'  he  said  to  me,  'Well,  Mark,  what  are 
you  doing  here?'  'What  am  I  doing  heah,'  said  I, 
'Why,  the  house  telegraphed  me  you  wanted  some 
goods.'  'Why,  I  wouldn't  buy  any  goods  from  yo' 
house  if  I  were  a  millionaire  and  could  get  them 
for  ten  cents  on  the  dollar.  They  turned  me  down 
once  good  and  ha'd  and  that's  enough  fo'  me. 
Where's  the  telegram?  I  think  you're  stringin'  me.' 
1  'No;  nothing  of  the  kind,'  said  I,  and  I  handed 

262 


Tales  of  the  Road 

him  the  telegram.  Laugh?  I  never  heard  a  fellow 
laugh  like  he  did  in  my  life. 

"  'Why,  can't  you  read?' 

"  'Sure!  This  telegram  reads:  "Sam  Shoup  dead. 
Wood  wants  goods." 

"  'No,'  said  Wood.  'That  telgram  says  that  Sam 
Shoup,  Deadwood,  wants  goods.  That  hasn't  any- 
thing to  do  with  me.'  And  do  you  know,  boys,  that's 
the  first  time  that  I  could  understan'  that  telegram  ? 

"It  was  such  a  good  joke,  howeveh,  that  I  did  jolly 
Wood  into  giving  me  an  o'deh.  From  the  Springs  I 
went  right  up  to  Deadwood.  When  I  met  Sam  in 
his  sto'  he  said  to  me,  'Veil,  Mark,  vat  are  you  sent- 
ing  my  vife  vlowers  for,  and  vat  are  you  extenting 
your  heartfelt  sympat'y  aboud?' 

"I  showed  Sam  the  telegram. 

"  'Veil,  veil,  veil.  I  nefer  had  a  ting  to  happen 
like  dot  in  my  life,'  said  he.  'Now,  I  know  you  are 
my  frient.  If  you  had  send  dose  vlowers  while  you 
knew  I  vas  alife,  I  would  have  t'ought  you  done 
it  to  sell  me  a  bill  but  you  send  'em  ven  you  t'ought 
I  vas  deat.  Ged  op  your  stuff,  Mark,  you  bet  your 
life  I  haf  a  bill  for  you.  I  will  make  it  dobble  vat 
I  t'ought  I  vould.  You  are  de  only  man  dat  has 
proved  he  vas  my  frient.'  " 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  I  got  on  the  south  side 
of  Ed  Marks?"  said  Sam  Wood.  We  had  nearly  all 
heard  this  story  before,  but  still  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
get  Wood  started,  so  we  all  urged  him  to  proceed. 

263 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  it  came  about  this  way,"  said  Sam,  squar- 
ing himself  in  his  chair,  as  we  lit  our  cigars.  "It  was 
in  the  old  flush  days,  you  know.  Goodness!  How 
I  wish  we  had  some  more  mining  camps  now  like 
Ed's  old  town.  Business  was  business  in  those  days — 
to  sell  a  man  ten  thousand  in  clothing  was  nothing ! 
Why,  IVe  sold  Ed  as  much  as  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars  in  one  season.  His  account  alone,  one  year, 
would  have  supported  me.  I  know  one  time  he  came 
into  our  store  and  I  took  him  upstairs  and  sold  him 
the  whole  side  of  the  house — overcoats  that  stacked 
up  clear  to  the  ceiling,  and  he  bought  them  quick  as 
a  flash.  He  just  looked  at  them.  He  said,  'How 
much  for  the  lot?'  I  gave  him  a  price,  and  before 
I  could  snap  my  finger  he  said,  'All  right,  ship  them 
out.  Send  about  a  fourth  by  express  and  the  others 
right  away  by  freight.'  ' 

"Yes,  but  how  did  you  start  him,  Sam?" 
"Oh,  I'm  just  going  to  get  to  that  now.  I  was 
something  of  a  kid  when  I  started  out  west.  IVe 
always  been  a  plunger,  you  know.  Of  course  IVe 
cut  out  fingering  chips  for  a  long  time  now,  but 
there  was  no  stake  too  high  for  me  in  those  days.  It 
cost  a  whole  lot  of  money  to  travel  out  west  when 
I  first  struck  that  country.  It  was  before  the  time 
when  clothing  houses  sent  out  swatches  in  one  trunk. 
They  weren't  such  close  propositions  then  as  now. 
They're  trying  to  put  this  clothing  business  now  on  a 
dry  goods  basis. 

264 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  I  carried  fourteen  trunks  and  five  hundred 
wouldn't  last  me  more  than  two  weeks.  I  just  cashed 
a  draft  before  I  struck  Ed's  town.  I  had  heard 
that  he  was  a  hard  man  to  handle  and  I  didn't  know 
just  exactly  how  to  get  at  him,  but  luck  was  with 
me. 

"The  night  I  got  into  town,  I  went  into  the  den 
out  from  the  office.  You  know  that  in  those  days  the 
hotels  would  board  suckers  for  nothing  if  they  would 
only  play  their  money.  I  knew  Ed  by  sight  and  I 
saw  him  standing  by  the  faro  table.  'Ah,  here's  my 
chance,'  said  I.  I  pulled  out  my  roll  and  asked  the 
dealer  to  give  me  two  hundred  in  chips.  I  played 
him  twenty  on  a  turn  and  then  said  to  the  dealer, 
What's  your  limit?'  The  roof's  off,'  said  he.  'All 
right,  250  on  the  bullet,'  said  I,  sliding  over.  '250 
goes,'  said  he.  I  lost.  I  repeated  the  bet.  I  lost 
again.  By  this  time  they  began  to-  crowd  around  the 
table.  I  didn't  see  Ed  then  at  all,  you  know,  except 
out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye.  I  could  see  that  he  was 
getting  interested  and  I  saw  him  put  his  hand  down 
in  his  pocket.  I  lost  another  250.  Three  straight 
bets  of  250  to  the  bad,  but  I  thought  I  might  just 
as  well  be  game  as  not  and  lose  it  all  at  one  turn 
as  well  as  any  other  way,  if  I  had  to  lose.  All  I  was 
playing  for  was  to  get  an  acquaintance  with  Ed  any- 
how and  that  was  easily  worth  500  to  me  if  I  could 
ever  get  him  into  my  sample  room,  and  I  knew  it. 
Gee !  Those  were  great  old  times  then. 

265 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  I  planked  up  the  fourth  250,  and  won. 
Then  I  let  the  whole  500  lay  and — " 

"You  are  pipe  dreaming,  Wood,"  spoke  up  one  of 
the  boys. 

"Jim,  I  can  prove  this  by  you.  You've  seen  worse 
things  than  this,  haven't  you?" 

"Bet  your  life,  Wood,"  and  Jim  whispered  to  one 
of  the  boys,  Wood  can  prove  anything  by  me.' 

"I  let  the  500  lay  on  a  copper  and  I  won.  From 
that  time  on  I  made  no  bet  for  less  than  half  a 
thousand.  At  one  time  I  had  the  dealer  pretty  close 
to  the  bank  but  I  didn't  quite  put  him  ashore. 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  when  I  quit 
I  was  just  a  thousand  to  the  good.  Next  day  was 
Sunday.  There  was  a  picnic  out  a  mile  from  town. 
I  said: 

"  'Well,  gentlemen,  I've  done  my  best  to  relieve 
my  friend  here  of  all  he  has,  but  I  can't  do  it.  I 
am  a  little  to  the  good  and  I  want  you  all  to  go  as 
my  guests  tomorrow  to  the  picnic.  In  on  this?'  said 
I,  and  Ed,  among  others,  nodded. 

"I  didn't  tell  him  who  I  was  and  I  didn't  ask 
him  who  he  was.  I  took  it  for  granted  if  he  said  he 
would  go  along,  he  would.  Next  day  a  whole  van 
load  of  us  went  out  to  the  picnic.  We  had  a  bully 
good  time.  When  we  got  into  the  wagon  I  intro- 
duced myself  to  all  the  gentlemen,  not  telling  them 
what  my  business  was.  When  Ed  told  me  his  name, 
he  said,  'I'm  a  resident  of  this  town  in  the  clothing 

266 


Tales  of  the  Road 

business.  Where  are  you  from?'  I  said,  Tm  from 
Chicago  and  Fm  in  the  clothing  business,  too,  but 
don't  let's  talk  business.  We're  out  for  pleasure  to- 
day.' Well,  that  suits  me,'  said  Ed,  but  when  we 
got  back  to  town  that  night  I  dropped  the  rest  of 
the  bunch  and  asked  him  in  to  supper  with  me.  Noth- 
ing too  good  for  him,  you  know.  And  while  he  was 
under  the  spell  I  took  him  into  my  sample  room  that 
night.  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  order  that  fellow 
gave  me.  It  struck  the  house  so  hard  when  I  sent 
it  in  to  them  that  they  wired  me  congratulations." 

"Are  you  still  selling  your  friend  Rubovitz,  John- 
nie?" asked  our  friend,  who  had  just  told  us  his  story, 
of  one  of  his  competitors. 

"Sure,"  said  Johnnie,  "and  the  boy,  too.  Yes, 
why  shouldn't  I?" 

"Well,  I  guess  you  should,"  said  Wood. 

"Yes !  when  I  was  in  the  old  man's  store  on  this 
last  trip,  I  felt  really  sorry  for  a  first-tripper  who 
struck  him  to  look  at  his  clothng.  That  fellow  hung 
on  and  hung  on.  I  was  sitting  back  at  the  desk 
and  he  must  have  thought  I  was  one  of  the  partners 
because  I  was  the  first  man  he  braced  and  I  referred 
him  to  the  old  gentleman." 

"Well,  wasn't  that  sort  of  a  dangerous  thing  for 
you  to  do?"  asked  one  of  the  boys. 

"Not  on  your  life.  You  don't  know  why  it  is  I 
have  the  old  man  so  solid.  I've  got  the  hooks  on 
him  good  and  hard,  you  know." 

267 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  how's  that?" 

"Oh,  it  came  about  this  way,"  said  he.  "When  I 
was  down  in  Kansas  City  a  few  years  ago,  when 
I  had  finished  selling  Ruby, — as  I  always  called  him, 
you  know — (he  came  in  from  out  in  the  country  to 
meet  me  this  time)  I  asked  him  how  my  little  sweet- 
heart was  getting  on.  She,  you  know,  was  his  little 
daughter  Leah.  She  was  just  as  sweet  as  she  could 
be, — great  big  brown  eyes  and  rich  russet  cheeks, 
black  curls,  bright  as  a  new  dollar  and  sharp  as  a 
needle. 

"  'O,  she  iss  a  big  goil  now/  said  my  friend  Ruby. 
'Say,'  said  he,  'who  vass  dot  yong  feller  in  the  room 
here  a  few  minutes  ago?'  He  referred  to  a  young 
friend  of  mine  who  had  chanced  to  drop  in.  'De 
reeson  I  ask  iss  I  am  huntin'  for  a  goot,  reliable, 
hart-workin'  Yehuda  (Jewish)  boy  for  her.  I  vant 
her  to  get  married  pretty  soon  now.  She  iss  a  nice 
goil,  too.' 

"  'How  about  a  goy  (Gentile),  Ruby?'  said  I. 

"  'No,  that  vont  vork.  Keln  ylddishes  Mddchen 
fur  einen  Goy  und  kelne  Shickse  fur  einen  yiddishen 
Jungen.'  (No  Hebrew  girl  for  a  Gentile  boy;  no 
Gentile  girl  for  a  Hebrew  boy.) 

"  'All  right,  Ruby,'  said  I.  He  was  such  a  good, 
jolly  old  fellow,  and  while  he  was  a  man  in  years  he 
was  a  boy  in  actions, — and  Ruby  was  the  only  name 
by  which  I  ever  called  him.  Nothing  else  would  fit. 

268 


Tales  of  the  Road 

'All  right,  Ruby,'  said  I,  'I  believe  I  just  know  the 
boy  for  Leah.' 

'Veil,  you  know  vat  I  will  do.  I  don'd  care  eef 
he  iss  a  poor  boy;  dot  is  all  ride.  I  haf  money  and 
eef  I  ged  the  ride  boy  for  my  goil,  I  vill  set  him  op  in 
peezness.  Dot's  somet'ing  for  you  to  vork  for — 
annodder  cost'mer,'  said  he — the  instinct  would  crop 
out. 

"Well,  sir,  I've  got  to  make  this  story  short,"  said 
Johnny,  pulling  out  his  watch.  "I  found  the  boy. 
He  was  a  good,  clean-cut  young  fellow,  too,  and  you 
know  the  rest." 

"You  bet  your  life  I  do,"  said  Sam.  "Two  solid 
customers  that  buy  every  dollar  from  you." 

"And,"  continued  Johnny,  "Leah  and  Abie  are  as 
happy  as  two  birds  in  a  nest.  I  don't  know  but  these 
marriages  arranged  by  the  old  folks  turn  out  as  well 
as  the  others  anyhow." 

"It's  not  alone  by  doing  a  good  turn  to  your  cus- 
tomer that  you  gain  his  good  will,"  said  the  hat  man. 
"Not  always  through  some  personal  favor,  but  with 
all  merchants  you  win  by  being  straight  with  them. 
This  is  the  one  thing  that  will  always  get  good  will. 
Now,  in  my  line,  for  example,  new  styles  are  con- 
stantly cropping  out  and  a  merchant  must  depend 
upon  his  hat  man  to  start  him  right  on  new  blocks. 
A  man  in  my  business  can  load  a  customer  with  a 
lot  of  worthless  plunder  so  that  his  stock  will  not  be 
worth  twenty-five  cents  on  the  dollar  in  a  season  or 

269 


Tales  of  the  Road 

two.  On  the  other  hand,  he  can,  if  he  will,  select 
the  new  styles  and  keep  him  from  buying  too  many 
of  them,  thereby  keeping  his  stock  clean. 

"Yes,  and  this  same  thing  can  be  done  in  all  lines," 
spoke  up  two  or  three  of  the  boys. 

uYes,  you  bet,"  continued  the  hat  man,  uand  when 
you  get  a  man's  good  will  through  the  square  deal 
you  have  him  firmer  than  if  you  get  his  confidence  in 
any  other  way." 

"Sure!  Sure!"  said  the  boys,  as  we  dropped  our 
napkins  and  made  for  our  hats. 


270 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SALESMEN'S  DON'TS. 

SALESMEN  are  told  many  things  they  should  do ; 
perhaps  they  ought  to  hear  a  few  things  they 
should  not  do.  If  there  is  one  thing  above  all 
others  that  a  salesman  should  observe,  it  is  this: 

Don't  grouch! 

The  surly  salesman  who  goes  around  carrying 
with  him  a  big  chunk  of  London  fog  does  himself 
harm.  If  the  sun  does  not  wish  to  shine  upon  him — 
if  he  is  having  a  little  run  of  hard  luck — he  should 
turn  on  himself,  even  with  the  greatest  effort,  a  little 
limelight.  He  should  carry  a  small  sunshine  genera- 
tor in  his  pocket  always.  The  salesman  who  ap- 
proaches his  customer  with  a  frown  or  a  blank  look 
upon  his  face,  is  doomed  right  at  the  start  to  do  no 
business.  His  countenance  should  be  as  bright  as  a 
new  tin  pan. 

The  feeling  of  good  cheer  that  the  salesman  has 
will  make  his  customer  cheerful;  and  unless  a  cus- 
tomer is  feeling  good,  he  will  do  little,  if  any,  business 
with  you. 

I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  the  salesman  should 
have  on  hand  a  full  stock  of  cheap  jokes — and  pray, 

271 


Tales  of  the  Road 

my  good  friend,  never  a  single  smutty  one;  nothing 
cheapens  a  man  so  much  as  to  tell  one  of  these — but 
he  should  carry  a  line  of  good  cheerful  wholesome 
talk.  "How  are  you  feeling  ?"  a  customer  may  ask. 
uHad  a  bad  cold  last  night,  but  feel  chipper  as  a 
robin  this  morning."  "How's  business?"  a  customer 
may  inquire.  "The  world  is  kind  to  me,"  should  be 
the  reply.  The  merchant  who  makes  a  big  success  is 
the  cheerful  man ;  the  salesman  who — whether  on  the 
road  or  behind  the  counter — succeeds,  carries  with 
him  a  long  stock  of  sunshine. 

An  old-time  clothing  man  who  traveled  in  Colo- 
rado once  told  me  this  incident : 

"I  used  to  have  a  customer,  several  years  ago,  over 
in  Leadville,"  said  he,  "that  I  had  to  warm  up  every 
time  I  called  around.  His  family  cost  him  a  great 
deal  of  money.  The  old  man  gave  it  to  them  cheer- 
fully, but  he  himself  would  take  only  a  roll  and  a  cup 
of  coffee  for  breakfast,  and,  when  he  got  down  to  the 
store  he  felt  so  poor  that  he  would  take  a  chew  of  to- 
bacco and  make  it  last  him  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Actually,  that  man  didn't  eat  enough.  And  his 
clothes — well,  he  would  dress  his  daughters  in  silks 
but  he  would  wear  a  hand-me-down  until  the  warp  on 
the  under  side  of  his  sleeves  would  wear  clear  down 
to  the  woof.  He  would  wear  the  bottoms  off  his 
trousers  until  the  tailor  tucked  them  under  clear  to 
his  shoe  tops.  Smile?  I  never  saw  the  old  man  smile 
in  my  life  when  I  first  met  him  on  my  trips.  It  would 

272 


Tales  of  the  Road 

always  take  me  nearly  a  whole  day  to  get  him  thawed 
out,  and  the  least  thing  would  make  him  freeze  up 
again. 

"I  remember  one  time  I  went  to  see  him — you 
recall  him,  old  man  Samuels — and,  after  a  great  deal 
of  coaxing,  got  him  to  come  into  my  sample  room 
in  the  afternoon.  This  was  a  hard  thing  to  do 
because  if  he  was  busy  in  the  store  he  would  not 
leave  and  if  he  wasn't  busy,  he  would  say  to  me, 
'Vat's  de  use  of  buying,  Maircus?  You  see,  I  doan 
sell  nodding.' 

uBut  this  time  I  got  the  old  man  over  to  luncheon 
with  me — we  were  old  friends,  you  know — and  I 
jollied  him  up  until  he  was  in  a  good  humor.  Then 
I  took  him  into  the  sample  room,  and  little  by  little, 
he  laid  out  a  line  of  goods.  Just  about  the  time 
he  had  finished  it,  it  grew  a  little  cloudy. 

"Now,  you  know  how  the  sun  shines  in  Colorado? 
From  one  side  of  the  state  to  the  other  it  seldom  gets 
behind  a  cloud.  In  short,  it  shines  there  360  days 
in  the  year.  It  had  been  bright  and  clear  all  morning 
and  all  the  time,  in  fact,  until  the  old  man  had  laid 
out  his  line  of  goods.  Then  he  happened  to  look 
out  of  the  window,  and  what  do  you  suppose  he  said 
to  me? 

"  'Veil,  Maircus,  I  like  you  and  I  like  your  goots, 
but,  ach  Himmel!  der  clooty  vetter!'  And,  do  you 
know,  I  couldn't  get  the  old  man  to  do  any  business 
with  me  because  he  thought  the  sun  was  never  going 

273 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  shine  again?  I  cannot  understand  just  how  he 
argued  it  with  himself,  but  he  was  deaf  to  all  of  my 
coaxing.  Finally  I  said  to  him : 

u  'Sam,  you  are  kicking  about  the  cloudy  weather 
but  I  will  make  you  a  present  of  a  box  of  cigars  if 
the  sun  does  not  shine  before  we  write  down  this  or- 
der.' 

"The  old  man  was  something  of  a  gambler, — in 
fact  the  one  pleasure  of  his  life  was  to  play  penochle 
for  two  bits  a  corner  after  he  closed  up.  So  he  said 
to  me,  'Veil,  Maircus,  you  can  wride  down  der  orter, 
and  eef  dot  sun  shines  before  ve  get  t'rough,  you 
can  sheep  der  goots.' 

"This  was  the  first  time  that  I  ever  played  a  game 
against  the  Powers  That  Be.  I  started  in  and  the 
sky  grew  darker  and  darker.  I  monkeyed  along  for  an 
hour  and  a  half,  and,  just  to  kill  time,  tried  to  switch 
the  old  man  from  patterns  he  had  selected  to  others 
that  I  'thought  would  be  a  little  better.'  But  the 
Powers  were  against  me,  and  when  I  finished  writing 
down  the  order  it  was  cloudier  than  ever — and  nearly 
night,  too. 

"Then  an  idea  struck  me.  'Now,  Sam,'  said  I, 
'I've  had  a  cinch  on  you  all  the  time.  You  told  me 
you  were  going  to  take  this  bill  if  the  sun  was  shining 
when  we  got  through  writing  down  this  order.  Don't 
you  know,  Sam,'  said  I,  laughing  at  him,  'the  sun 
does  shine  and  must  shine  every  day.  Sometimes  a 
little  cloud  comes  between  it  and  the  earth  but  that, 

274 


Tales  of  the  Road 

you  know,  will  soon  pass  away,  and,  cloud  or  no 
cloud,  the  sun  shines  just  the  same.' 

"  'Veil,  Maircus,'  said  the  old  man,  'I  cannod  see 
any  sunshine  out  der  vindow,  but  dere's  so  much  off 
id  in  your  face  dot  you  can  sheep  dot  bill.'  'Well, 
Sam/  said  I,  'if  that's  the  case,  I  guess  I  will  buy 
you  that  box  of  cigars.'  ' 

Another  thing :    Don't  beef! 

There  is  a  slight  difference  between  the  "grouch" 
and  the  "beef."  The  man  may  be  grouchy  without 
assuming  to  give  a  reason  therefor,  but  when  he 
"beefs"  he  usually  thinks  there  is  cause  for  it.  I 
knew  a  man  who  once  lost  a  good  customer  just  be- 
cause he  beefed  when  a  man  to  whom  he  had  sold  a 
bill  of  goods  countermanded  the  order.  The  mer- 
chant was  stretching  his  capital  in  his  business  to  the 
limit.  Things  grew  a  little  dull  with  him  and  he 
figured  it  out,  after  he  had  placed  all  of  his  orders, 
that  he  had  bought  too  many  goods.  He  used  the 
hatchet  a  little  all  the  way  around.  I  had  some  of 
my  own  order  cut  off,  but  instead  of  kicking  about  it, 
I  wrote  him  that  he  could  even  cut  off  more  if  he 
felt  it  was  to  his  advantage;  that  I  did  not  wish  to 
load  him  up  with  more  than  he  could  use ;  that  when 
the  time  came  that  I  knew  his  business  better  than 
he  did  it  would  then  be  time  for  me  to  buy  him  out. 
But  a  friend  of  mine  did  not  take  this  same  turn. 
Instead,  he  wrote  to  the  man — and  the  merchant 
thought  a  good  deal  of  him,  personally,  too — that  he 

275 


Tales  of  the  Road 

had  bought  the  goods  in  good  faith,  that  expense  had 
been  made  in  selling  the  bill  and  that  he  ought  to 
keep  them. 

"Well,  now,  that  was  the  very  worst  thing  he 
could  have  done  because  it  went  against  the  customer's 
grain.  He  let  his  countermand  stand  and  since  that 
time  he  has  never  bought  any  more  goods  from  his 
old  friend.  He  simply  marked  him  off  his  list  be- 
cause it  was  very  plain  to  him  that  the  friendship 
of  the  past  had  been  for  what  there  was  in  it. 

Don't  fail  to  make  a  friend  of  your  fellow  sales- 
man! 

This  can  never  do  you  any  harm  and  you  will 
find  that  it  will  often  do  you  good.  The  heart  of 
the  man  on  the  road  should  be  as  broad  as  the  prairie 
and  as  free  from  narrowness  as  the  Egyptian  sky  is 
free  of  clouds.  One  of  my  friends  once  told  a 
group  of  us,  as  we  traveled  together,  how  an  acquaint- 
ance he  made  helped  him. 

"I  got  into  Dayton,  Washington,  one  summer 
morning  about  4:30,"  said  he.  "Another  one  of 
the  boys — a  big,  strong,  good-natured  comrade — 
until  then  a  stranger  to  me — and  myself  were  the 
only  ones  left  at  the  little  depot  when  the  jerk-water 
train  pulled  away.  It  was  the  first  trip  to  this  town 
for  both  of  us.  There  was  no  'bus  at  the  depot  and 
we  did  not  know  just  how  to  get  up  to  the  hotel. 
The  morning  was  fine — such  a  one  as  makes  a  fellow 
feel  good  clear  down  to  the  ground.  The  air  was 

276 


Tales  of  the  Road 

sweet  with  the  smell  of  the  dewy  grass.  The  clouds 
in  the  east — kind  of  smeared  across  the  sky — began  to 
redden;  they  were  the  color  of  coral  as  we  picked  our 
way  along  the  narrow  plank  walk.  As  we  left  behind 
us  the  bridge,  which  crossed  a  beautiful  little  stream 
lined  with  cotton  woods  and  willows,  they  had  turned 
a  bright  vermillion.  There  was  not  a  mortal  to 
be  seen  besides  ourselves.  The  only  sound  that  inter- 
rupted our  conversation  was  the  crowing  of  the 
roosters.  The  leaves  were  still.  It  was  just  the  right 
time  for  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  between  two 
strangers. 

"  'Isn't  this  glorious  !'  exclaimed  my  friend. 

"  'Enchanting !'  I  answered.  I  believe  I  would 
have  made  friends  writh  a  crippled  grizzly  bear  that 
morning.  But  this  fellow  was  a  whole-souled  prince. 
We  forgot  all  about  business,  and  the  heavy  grips 
that  we  lugged  up  to  the  hotel  seemed  light.  All  I 
remember  further  was  that  my  friend — for  he  had 
now  become  that  to  me — and  myself  went  out  to 
hunt  up  a  cup  of  coffee  after  we  had  set  down  our 
grips  in  the  hotel  office. 

"The  next  time  I  met  that  man  was  at  the  Penn- 
sylvania Station  at  Philadelphia,  ten  years  afterward, 
at  midnight.  We  knew  each  other  on  sight. 

"  'God  bless  you,  old  man,'  said  he.  'Do  you 
know  me?' 

"  Tou  bet  your  life  I  do,'  said  I.  'We  walked 
together  one  morning,  ten  years  ago,  from  the  depot 

277 


Tales  of  the  Road 

at  Dayton,  Washington,  to  the  hotel.'  'Do  you  re- 
member that  sunrise  ?'  'Well,  do  I  ?'  'What  are  you 
doing  down  here  ?'  'Oh,  just  down  on  business.  The 
truth  is,  I  am  going  down  to  New  York.  My  house 
failed  recently  and  I'm  on  the  look-out  for  a  job.' 

4'And  do  you  know,  boys,  that  very  fellow  fixed 
me  up  before  ten  o'clock  next  morning,  with  the 
people  that  I  am  with  today,  and  you  know  whether 
or  not  I  am  getting  on." 

Don't  fail  to  be  friendly  with  any  one  who  comes 
in  your  way. 

Another  of  the  boys  in  the  little  group  that  had 
just  listened  to  this  story,  after  hearing  it,  said: 
"You  bet  your  life  it  never  hurts  a  fellow  to  be 
friendly  with  anybody.  Once,  when  I  was  going 
down  from  a  little  Texas  town  to  Galveston,  the 
coach  was  rather  crowded.  The  only  vacant  seats  in 
the  whole  car  were  where  two  Assyrian  peddler 
women  sat  in  a  double  seat  with  their  packs  of  wares 
opposite  them.  But  as  I  came  in  they  very  kindly 
put  some  of  their  bundles  into  the  space  underneath 
where  the  backs  of  two  seats  were  turned  together, 
thus  making  room  for  me.  I  sat  down  with  them. 
A  gentleman  behind  me  remarked,  'Those  people 
aren't  so  bad  after  all.'  'Yes,'  I  said,  'you  will  find 
good  in  every  one  if  you  only  know  how  to  get  it 
out.' 

"I  had  a  long  and  interesting  talk  with  that  gen- 

278 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tleman.  He  gave  me  his  card  and  when  I  saw  his 
name  I  recognized  that  he  was  a  noted  lecturer." 

"Well,  what  good  did  that  do  you?"  said  one  of 
the  boys  who  was  not  far-seeing. 

"Good?  Why  that  man  asked  me  to  come  to  his 
home.  There  I  met  one  of  his  sons  who  was  an 
advertising  man  for  a  very  large  firm  in  Galveston. 
He,  in  turn,  introduced  me  to  the  buyer  in  his  store 
and  put  in  a  good  word  with  him  for  me.  I  had 
never  been  able  to  really  get  the  buyer's  attention 
before  this  time  but  this  led  me  into  a  good  account. 
You  know,  I  don't  care  anything  for  introductions 
where  I  can  get  at  a  man  without  them.  I'd  rather 
approach  a  man  myself  straight  out  than  to  have 
any  one  introduce  me  to  him,  but  there  are  cases 
where  you  really  cannot  get  at  a  man  without  some 
outside  influence.  This  was  a  case  where  it  did  me 
good. 

But,  with  all  this,  don't  depend  upon  your  old 
friends! 

A  salesman's  friends  feel  that  when  he  approaches 
them  he* does  so  because  they  are  his  friends,  and  not 
because  he  has  goods  to  sell  that  have  value.  They 
will  not  take  the  same  interest  in  his  merchandise  that 
they  will  in  that  of  a  stranger.  They  will  give  him, 
it  is  true,  complimentary  orders,  charity-bird  bills,  but 
these  are  not  the  kind  that  count.  Every  old  man  on 
the  road  will  tell  you  that  he  has  lost  many  customers 
by  making  personal  friends  of  them.  No  man,  no 

279 


Tales  of  the  Road 

matter  how  warm  a  friend  his  customer  may  be, 
should  fail,  when  he  does  business  with  him,  to  give 
him  to  understand  that  the  goods  he  is  getting  are 
worth  the  money  that  he  pays  for  them.  This  will 
make  a  business  friendship  built  upon  confidence,  and 
the  business  friend  may  afterward  become  the  per- 
sonal friend.  A  personal  friendship  will  often  follow 
a  business  friendship  but  business  friendship  will  not 
always  follow  personal  regard.  Every  man  on  the 
road  has  on  his  order  book  the  names  of  a  few  who 
are  exceptions  to  this  rule.  He  values  these  friends, 
because  the  general  rule  of  the  road  is:  "Make  a 
personal  friend — lose  a  customer  1" 

Don't  switch  lines! 

The  man  who  has  a  good  house  should  never 
leave  it  unless  he  goes  with  one  that  he  knows  to  be 
much  better  and  with  one  that  will  assure  him  of  a 
good  salary  for  a  long  time. 

Even  then,  a  man  often  makes  a  mistake  to  his 
sorrow.  He  will  find  that  many  whom  he  has  thought 
his  personal  friends  are  merely  his  business  friends; 
that  they  have  bought  goods  from  him  because  they 
have  liked  the  goods  he  sold.  It  is  better  for  a  man 
to  try  to  improve  the  line  he  carries — even  though 
it  may  not  suit  him  perfectly — than  to  try  his  luck 
with  another  one.  Merchants  are  conservative.  They 
never  put  in  a  line  of  goods  unless  it  strikes  them  as 
being  better  than  the  one  that  they  are  carrying,  and 
when  they  have  once  established  a  line  of  goods  that 

280 


Tales  of  the  Road 

suits  them,  and  when  they  have  built  a  credit  with  a 
certain  wholesale  house,  they  do  not  like  to  fly  around 
because  the  minute  that  they  switch  from  one  brand 
of  goods  that  they  are  carrying  to  another,  the  old 
goods  have  become  to  them  mere  job  lots,  while  if 
they  continued  to  fill  in  upon  a  certain  brand,  the  old 
stock  would  remain  just  as  valuable  as  the  new. 

One  of  my  old  friends  had  a  strong  personality 
but  wyas  a  noted  changer.  He  is  one  of  the  best  sales- 
men on  the  road  but  he  has  always  changed  himself 
out.  He  was  a  shoe  man.  I  met  him  one  day  as  he 
was  leaving  Lincoln,  Nebraska.  "Well,  Andy," 
said  I,  "I  guess  you  got  a  good  bill  from  your  old 
friend  here." 

"Ah,  friend?"  said  he.  "I  thought  that  fellow 
was  my  friend,  but  he  quit  me  cold  this  time.  Didn't 
give  me  a  sou.  And  do  you  know  that  this  time  I 
have  a  line  just  as  good  as  any  I  ever  carried  in  my 
life.  I  got  him  to  go  over  to  look,  but  what  did  he 
say  ?  That  he'd  bought.  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that 
he  bought  from  the  house  I  have  just  left  and  from 
the  man  that  I  hate  from  the  ground  up.  Now, 
he's  not  any  friend  of  mine  any  more.  The  man's 
your  friend  who  buys  goods  from  you." 

I  didn't  have  very  much  to  say,  for  this  man  had 
been  loyal  to  me,  but  when  I  went  to  Lincoln  again 
I  chanced  to  be  talking  to  the  merchant,  and  he  said 
to  me: 

"Do  you  know,  I  like  Andy  mighty  well.     I  tried 

281 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  be  a  friend  to  him.  When  I  first  started  with  him 
I  bought  from  him  the  "Solid  Comfort."  He  talked 
to  me  and  said  that  Solid  Comforts  were  the  thing, 
that  they  had  a  big  reputation  and  that  I  would 
profit  by  the  advertising  that  thjey  had.  Well,  I  took 
him  at  his  word.  I  used  to  know  him  when  I  was  a 
clerk,  you  know,  and  bought  from  him  on  his  say-so, 
the  Solid  Comfort.  I  handled  these  a  couple  of 
years  and  got  a  good  trade  built  up  on  them,  and  then 
he  came  around  and  said,  'Well,  Fve  had  to  drop  the 
old  line.  I  think  I'm  going  to  do  lots  better  with  the 
house  I'm  with  now.  The  "Easy  Fitter"  is  their 
brand.  Now,  you  see  there  isn't  very  much  differ- 
ence between  "the  Easy  Fitters  and  the  Solid  Com- 
forts, and  you  won't  have  any  trouble  in  changing 
your  people  over.' 

"Well,  I  changed,  and  do  you  know  I  was  in 
trouble  just  as  soon  as  I  began  to  run  out  of  sizes  of 
Solid  Comforts.  People  had  worn  them  and  they 
had  given  satisfaction  and  they  wanted  more  of  them. 
Still,  I  didn't  buy  any  at  all  and  talked  my  lungs  out 
selling  the  Easy  Fitters. 

"Well,  it  wasn't  but  a  couple  of  years  later  when 
Andy  came  around  with  another  line.  This  time  he 
had  about  the  same  old  story  to  tell.  I  said  to  him, 
'Now,  look  here,  Andy,  I've  had  a  good  -deal  of 
trouble  selling  this  second  line  you  sold  me  instead 
of  the  first.  People  still  come  in  and  ask  for  them. 
I  have  got  them,  however,  changed  over  fairly  well 

282 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  the  Easy  Fitters,  and  I  don't  want  to  go  through 
with  this  old  trouble  again.' 

"  'Aw,  come  on,'  said  he,  'a  shoe's  a  shoe.  What's 
the  difference?'  And,  out  of  pure  friendship,  I  went 
with  him  again  and  bought  the  "Correct  Shape."  I 
had  the  same  old  trouble  over  again,  only  it  was 
worse.  The  shoes  were  all  right  but  I  had  lots  of  diffi- 
culty making  people  think  so.  So  when  Andy  made  this 
trip  and  had  another  line,  I  had  to  come  right  out 
and  say,  'Andy,  I  can't  do  business  with  you.  I  have 
followed  you  three  times  from  the  Solid  Comfort 
to  the  Easy  Fitter,  and  from  the  Easy  Fitter  to  the 
Correct  Shape,  but  now  I  have  already  bought  those 
and  I  can't  give  you  a  thing.  I  am  going  to  be  frank 
with  you  and  say  that  I  would  rather  buy  goods  from 
you,  Andy,  than  from  any  other  man  I  know  of,  but 
still  Number  One  must  come  first.  If  you  were  with 
your  old  people,  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  buy  from 
you,  but  you've  mixed  me  up  so  on  my  shoe  stock 
that  it  wouldn't  be  worth  fifty  cents  on  the  dollar 
if  I  were  to  change  lines  again.  I  will  give  you 
money  out  of  my  pocket,  Andy,'  said  I,  'but  I'm  not 
going  to  put  another  new  line  on  my  shelves." 

Don't  fall  on  prices! 

The  man  who  does  this  will  not  gain  the  confi- 
dence of  the  man  to  whom  he  shows  his  goods. 
Without  this  he  cannot  sell  a  merchant  successfully. 
A  hat  man  once  told  me  of  an  experience. 

"When  I  first  started  on  the  road,"  said  he,  "I 

283 


Tales  of  the  Road 

learned  one  thing — not  to  break  on  prices  when  a 
merchant  asked  me  to  come  down.  I  was  in  Dubuque. 
It  was  about  my  fourth  trip  to  the  town.  I  had  been 
selling  one  man  there  but  his  business  hadn't  been  as 
much  as  it  should,  and  I  kept  on  the  lookout  for  an- 
other customer.  Besides,  the  town  was  big  enough 
to  stand  two,  anyway.  I  had  been  working  hard  on 
one  of  the  largest  clothing  merchants,  who  carried 
my  line,  in  the  town.  Finally  I  got  him  over  to  my 
sample  room.  I  showed  him  my  line  but  he  said  to 
me,  'Your  styles  are  all  right  but  your  prices  are  too 
high.  Vy,  here  is  a  hat  you  ask  me  twelf  tollars  for. 
Vy,  I  buy  'em  from  my  olt  house  for  eleven  feefty. 
You  cannot  expect  me  to  buy  goods  from  you  ven 
you  ask  me  more  than  odders.' 

"I  had  just  received  a  letter  from  the  house  about 
cutting,  and  they  had  given  it  to  me  so  hard  that  I 
thought  I  would  ask  the  prices  they  wanted  for  their 
goods,  and  if  I  couldn't  sell  them  that  way,  I 
wouldn't  sell  them  at  all.  I  hadn't  learned  to  be 
honest  then  for  its  own  sake ;  honesty  is  a  matter  of 
education,  anyway.  So  I  told  my  customer,  'No; 
the  first  price  I  made  you  was  the  bottom  price.  I'll 
not  vary  it  for  you.  I'd  be  a  nice  fellow  to  ask  you 
one  price  and  then  come  down  to  another.  If  I  did 
anything  like  that  I  couldn't  walk  into  your  store  with 
a  clear  conscience  and  shake  you  by  the  hand.  I've 
simply  made  you  my  lowest  price  in  the  beginning 
and  I  hope  you  can  use  the  goods  at  these  figures,  but 

284 


Tales  of  the  Road 

if  you  can't,  I  cannot  take  an  order  from  you.'  Well, 
he  bought  the  goods  at  my  prices,  paying  me  $12 
for  what  he  said  he  could  get  for  $i  1.50. 

"A  few  days  after  that  I  met  a  fellow  salesman 
who  was  selling  clothing.  He  said  to  me,  'By  Jove, 
my  boy,  you're  going  to  get  a  good  account  over  there 
in  Dubuque,  do  you  know  that  ?  The  man  you  sold 
there  told  me  he  liked  the  way  you  did  business.  He 
said  he  tried  his  hardest  to  beat  you  down  on  prices 
but  that  you  wouldn't  stand  for  it,  and  that  he  had 
confidence  in  you.' 

uAnd,  sure  enough,  I  sold  that  man  lots  of  goods 
for  many  years,  and  I  thus  learned  early  in  my  career 
not  to  fall  on  prices.  If  a  man  is  going  to  do  any 
cutting,  the  time  to  do  it  is  at  the  beginning  of  his 
trip  when  he  marks  his  samples.  He  should  do  this 
in  plain  figures  and  he  should  in  no  way  vary  from 
his  original  price.  If  he  does,  he  should  be  man 
enough  to  send  a  rebate  to  those  from  whom  he  has 
obtained  higher  prices.  If  a  man  will  follow  out 
this  method  he  will  surely  succeed." 

Don't  give  away  things! 

This  same  hat  man  told  me  another  experience 
he  met  with  on  that  same  trip.  Said  he,  "I  went  in 
to  see  a  man  in  eastern  Nebraska.  He  was  the  one 
man  on  that  trip  who  told  me  when  I  first  mentioned 
business  that  he  wanted  some  hats  and  that  he  would 
buy  mine  if  they  suited  him.  This  looked  to  me  like 
a  push-over.  Purely  out  of  ignorance  and  good- 

285 


Tales  of  the  Road 

heartedness,  when  he  came  to  my  sample  room  (I 
was  a  new  man  on  the  road),  because  he  had  been 
the  first  man  who  said  he  wanted  some  goods,  I  of- 
fered him  a  fine  hat  and  do  you  know,  he  not  only 
would  not  take  the  hat  from  me  but  he  did  not  buy  a 
bill.  I  learned  from  another  one  of  the  boys  that 
he  turned  me  down  because  I  offered  to  make  him  a 
present.  This  is  a  rule  which  is  not  strictly  adhered 
to,  but  if  I  were  running  a  wholesale  house  I  should 
let  nothing  be  given  to  a  customer.  He  will  think  a 
great  deal  more  of  the  salesman  if  that  salesman 
makes  him  pay  for  what  he  gets. 

A  salesman  may  be  liberal  and  free  in  other  ways, 
but  when  he  gets  to  doing  business  he  should  not  let 
it  appear  that  he  is  trying  to  buy  it.  Of  course  it  is 
all  right  and  the  proper  thing  to  be  a  good  fellow 
when  the  opportunity  comes  about  in  a  natural  kind 
of  way.  If  you  are  in  your  customer's  store,  say, 
at  late  closing  time  on  Saturday  night,  it  is  but  natural 
for  you  to  say  to  him :  uMorris,  I  had  a  poor  supper. 
I  wonder  if  we  can't  go  around  here  somewhere  and 
dig  up  something  to  eat."  You  can  also  say  to  the 
clerks,  "Come  along,  boys,  you  are  all  in  on  this. 
My  house  is  rich.  You've  worked  hard  to-day  and 
need  a  little  recreation."  But  such  courtesies  as  these, 
unless  they  fit  in  gracefully  and  naturally,  would  bet- 
ter never  be  offered. 

Don't  think  any  one  too  big  or  too  hard  for  you 
to  tackle. 

286 


Tales  of  the  Road 

If  the  salesman  cannot  depend  upon  his  friends, 
then  he  must  find  his  customers  among  strangers,  I 
remember  a  man  selling  children's  shoes,  out  in  Ore- 
gon, who  had  not  been  able  to  get  a  looker  even  in 
the  town.  He  was  talking  to  a  little  bunch  of  us, 
enumerating  those  on  whom  he  had  called.  The  last 
one  he  spoke  of  was  the  big  shoeman  of  the  town. 
He  said,  "But  I  can't  do  anything  with  that  fellow; 
why,  his  brother,  who  is  his  partner,  sells  shoes  on 
the  road." 

"I'm  all  through  with  my  business,"  spoke  up  a 
drygoods  man,  "but  I'll  bet  the  cigars  that  I  can 
make  Hoover  (the  shoeman)  come  and  look  at  your 
stuff.  That  is,  I'll  make  out  to  him  that  I'm  selling 
shoes  and  I  bet  you  that  I'll  bring  him  to  my  sample 


room." 


"Well,  I'll  just  take  that  bet,"  said  the  shoeman. 

About  this  time  I  left  for  the  depot.  The  next 
time  I  saw  the  drygoods  man  I  asked  him  how  he 
came  out  on  that  bet. 

"Oh,  I'd  forgoten  all  about  that,"  said  he.  "Well, 
I'll  tell  you.  Just  after  you  left  I  went  right  down 
to  the  shoeman's  store.  I  found  him  back  in  his  of- 
fice writing  some  letters.  I  walked  right  up  to  him — 
you  know  I  didn't  have  anything  to  lose  except  the 
cigars  and  their  having  the  laugh  on  me — and  I  said, 
'You  are  Mr.  Hoover,  I  am  sure.  Now,  sir,  you  are 
busy  and  what  little  I  have  to  say  I  shall  make  very 
short  to  you,  sir.  My  house  gives  its  entire  energy 

287 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  the  manufacture  of  foot  covers  for  little  folks.  My 
line  is  complete  and  my  prices  are  right.  If  you  have 
money  and  are  able  to  buy  for  cash  on  delivery,  I 
should  be  glad  to  show  you  my  line/ 

"  'I  have  bought  everything  for  this  season/  said 
Hoover. 

"  'Perhaps  you  think  you  have,  Mr.  Hoover,  but 
do  you  wish  to  hold  a  blind  bridle  over  your  eyes  and 
not  see  what's  going  on  in  your  business?  Do  I  not 
talk  as  if  my  firm  were  first  class?  I  have  come 
straight  to  you  without  any  beating  around  the  bush. 
I  don't  intend  to  offer  any  suggestions  as  to  how  you 
should  run  your  business,  but  ask  yourself  if  you  can 
afford  to  pass  up  looking  at  a  representative  line. 
You've  heard  of  my  firm,  have  you  not?  And  I 
made  up  some  firm  name  for  him. 

"  'No,  I  have  not.  I'm  not  interested  in  any  new 
houses.' 

"  'Not  interested  in  any  new  houses !'  said  I.  'The 
very  fact  that  you  don't  even  know  the  name  of  my 
firm  is  all  the  greater  reason  why  you  should  come 
and  see  what  sort  of  stuff  they  turn  out.' 

"  'Yes,  but  I've  bought;  what's  the  use?'  said  he. 

"  'At  least  to  post  yourself,'  I  replied. 

"  'Well,  I  might  as  well  come  out  and  tell  you,' 
said  the  shoeman,  'that  my  brother  owns  an  interest 
in  this  business  and  that  we  handle  his  line  ex- 
clusively.' 

'Then  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  for  your  store 

288 


Tales  of  the  Road 

here  you  are  picking  from  one  line  of  goods  and  are 
trying  to  compete  with  other  merchants  in  this  town 
who  have  the  chance  of  buying  from  scores  of  lines. 
Now,  your  brother  is  certainly  a  very  poor  salesman 
if  he  can't  sell  enough  shoes  to  make  a  living  on 
aside  from  those  that  he  sells  to  his  own  store.  Should 
he  not  let  his  wholesale  business  and  his  retail  busi- 
ness be  separate  from  one  another?  You  yourself 
are  interested  in  this  concern  and  ought  you  not  to 
have  something  to  say?  To  be  sure,  when  it  comes 
to  an  even  break  you  should  by  all  means  give  your 
brother  and  his  firm  the  preference;  but  do  you  be- 
lieve that  either  you  or  he  should  have  goods  come 
into  this  house  from  his  firm  when  you  are  able  to  get 
them  better  from  some  other  place  ?' 

"  'No,  I  don't  believe  that  is  exactly  business  and 
we  don't  aim  to.' 

"  'Well,  if  such  is  the  case,'  said  I,  'come  up  and 
see  what  I  have.' 

"  'Well,  I'll  just  go  you  one,'  said  the  shoeman. 

"Do  you  know,  I  had  him  walk  with  me  up  to  the 
hotel — he  was  a  good  jolly  fellow — and  when  I 
marched  into  the  office  with  him,  I  called  the  chil- 
dren's shoe  man  over  and  introduced  him. 

"He  said,  'Well,  this  is  one  on  me,'  and  then  ex- 
plained the  bet  to  Hoover  and  bought  the  cigars  for 
three  instead  of  two." 

Don't  put  prices  on  another  man's  goods! 

I  once  had  a  merchant  pass  me  out  an  article  he 

289 


Tales  of  the  Road 

had  bought  from  another  man.  uHow  much  is  that 
worth?"  he  asked.  'That  I  shall  not  tell  you,"  I 
answered.  "Suppose  it  is  worth  $24  a  dozen.  If 
I  say  it  is  worth  $30,  then  you  will  say  to  me: 
There's  no  use  doing  business  with  you,  this  other 
man's  goods  are  cheaper,  you've  confessed  it.'  If 
I  say  that  it  is  worth  $24  a  dozen,  then  you  will 
say  to  me  that  I'm  not  offering  you  any  advantage. 
If  I  say  it  is  worth  $18  a  dozen,  you  will  believe  that 
I  am  telling  you  a  lie.  Therefore,  I  shall  say 
nothing." 

Don't  run  down  your  competitor. 

In  talking  of  this  point  a  furnishing  goods  man 
once  said  to  me :  uWhen  I  first  went  to  travel  in  Mis- 
souri and  Illinois  I  was  green.  I  had  a  whole  lot  to 
learn,  but  still  I  had  been  posted  by  one  of  my  friends 
who  told  me  that  I  should  always  treat  my  compet- 
itor with  especial  courtesy.  When  I  was  on  my 
first  trip  I  met  one  of  my  competitors  one  day  at  a 
hotel  in  Springfield.  I  was  introduced  to  him  by  one 
of  the  boys.  I  chatted  with  him  as  pleasantly  as  I 
could  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  went  up  street  to 
look  for  a  customer. 

uAfter  dinner  I  was  standing  by  the  cigar  case 
talking  to  the  hotel  clerk.  Up  came  my  competitor 
very  pompously  and  bought  a  half  dollar's  worth  of 
cigars.  As  he  lighted  one  and  stuck  all  the  others 
into  his  pocket  case  he  said  to  me  in  a  'What-are- 
you?'  fashion,  'Oh,  how  are  you?'  and  away  he 

290 


Tales  of  the  Road 

walked.  Heavens,  how  he  froze  me !  But  from  that 
day  to  this,  while  I  have  outwardly  always  treated 
him  civilly,  his  customers  have  been  the  ones  that  I 
have  gone  after  the  hardest — and  you  bet  your  life 
that  I've  put  many  of  his  fish  on  my  string. 

Don't  run  down  the  other  fellow's  goods! 

When  a  salesman  tells  merchants  that  he  can 
sell  them  goods  that  are  better,  for  the  same 
price  or  cheaper  than  he  is  buying  them,  he  at  once 
offers  an  insult  to  the  merchant's  judgment.  One  of 
my  merchant  friends  once  told  me  of  a  breezy  young 
chap  who  came  into  his  store  and  asked  him  how 
much  he  paid  for  a  certain  suit  of  clothes  that  was  on 
the  table.  uThis  young  fellow  was  pretty  smart," 
said  my  merchant  friend.  "He  asked  me  how  much 
I  paid  for  a  cheviot.  I  told  him  $9.  He  said, 
'Nine  dollars !  Well,  I  can  sell  you  one  just  like  that 
for  $7.'  'All  right,  I'll  take  fifty  suits,'  said  I. 

"About  that  time  I  turned  away  to  wait  on  a  cus- 
tomer and  in  an  hour  or  so  the  young  fellow  came  in 
again  and  said,  'Well,  my  line  is  all  opened  up  now, 
and  if  you  like  we  can  run  over  to  my  sample  room.' 
'Why,  there's  no  use  of  doing  that,'  said  I.  'You 
tell  me  that  you  can  sell  me  goods  just  exactly  like 
what  I  have  for  $2  a  suit  cheaper.  No  use  of  my 
going  over  to  look  at  them.  Just  send  them  along. 
Here,  I  can  buy  lots  of  goods  from  you.' 

"  'Oh,  they're  not  exactly  like  these,  but  pretty  near 
it,'  said  he. 

291 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  'Well,  if  they're  not  exactly  like  these  I  don't 
care  for  them  at  all  because  these  suit  me  exactly.' 

"With  this  the  young  fellow  took  a  tumble  to 
himself  and  let  me  alone." 

Don't  carry  side  lines! 

You  might  just  as  well  mix  powder  with  sawdust. 
If  you  scatter  yourself  from  one  force  to  another 
you  weaken  the  force  which  you  should  put  into  your 
one  line.  If  this  does  not  pay  you,  quit  it  altogether. 

Don't  take  a  conditional  order! 

If  your  customer  cannot  make  up  his  mind  while 
you  can  bring  your  arguments  to  bear  upon  him  in 
his  presence,  you  may  depend  upon  it  he  will  never 
talk  himself  into  ordering  your  goods.  If  you  can 
lead  a  merchant  to  the  point  of  saying,  "Well,  I'll 
take  a  memorandum  of  your  stock  numbers  and  may- 
be I'll  send  in  for  some  of  these  things  later,"  and 
not  get  him  to  budge  any  further,  and  if  you  lend 
him  your  pencil  to  write  down  that  conditional  order, 
you  will  be  simply  wasting  a  little  black  lead  and  a 
whole  lot  of  good  time. 

There  are  many  more  "Don'ts"  for  the  salesman 
but  I  shall  leave  you  to  figure  out  the  rest  of  them 
for  yourself — but  just  one  more : 

DON'T  be  ashamed  that  you  are  a  salesman! 

Salesmanship  is  just  as  much  a  profession  as  law, 
medicine,  or  anything  else,  and  salesmanship  also 
has  its  reward. 

Salesmanship  requires  special  study,  and  the  fact 

292 


Tales  of  the  Road 

that  the  schools  of  salesmanship  which  are  now  start- 
ing are  patronized  not  only  by  those  who  wish  to  be- 
come salesmen  but  also  by  those  who  wish  to  be  more 
successful  in  their  work,  shows  that  there  is  an  in- 
terest awakening  in  this  profession. 

There  is  a  science  of  salesmanship,  whether  the 
salesman  knows  it  or  not.  If  he  will  only  get  the 
idea  that  he  can  study  his  profession  and  profit  there- 
by, this  idea  in  his  head  will  turn  out  to  be  worth 
a  great  deal  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MERCHANTS  THE  SALESMAN  MEETS. 

A  BUNCH  of  us  sat  in  the  Silver  Grill  of  the 
Hotel  Spokane  where  we  could  see  the  gold 
fish  and  the  baby  turtles  swimming  in  the  pool 
of  the  ferned  grotto  in  the  center  of  the  room.  This 
is  one  place  toward  which  the  heart  of  every  traveling 
man  who  wanders  in  the  far  Northwest  turns  when 
he  has  a  few  days  of  rest  between  trips.  Perhaps 
more  good  tales-  of  the  road  are  told  in  this  room 
than  in  any  other  in  the  West.  There  is  an  air  about 
the  place  that  puts  one  at  ease — the  brick  floor,  the 
hewn  logs  that  support  the  ceiling  and  frame  in  the 
pictures  of  English  country  life  around  the  walls, 
the  big,  comfortable,  black-oak  chairs,  and  the  open 
fireplace,  before  which  spins  a  roasting  goose  or 
turkey. 

"Yes,  you  bet  we  strike  some  queer  merchants  on 
«/  the  road,  boys,"  said  the  children's  clothing  man. 
UI  ran  into-  one  man  out  west  of  here  and  it  did  me  a 
whole  lot  of  good  to  get  even  with  him.  He  was 
one  of  those  suspicious  fellows  that  trusted  to  his 
own  judgment  about  buying  goods  rather  than  place 
faith  in  getting  square  treatment  from  the  traveling 

294 


Tales  of  the  Road 

man.  You  all  know  how  much  pleasure  it  gives  us 
to  trump  the  sure  trick  of  one  of  this  kind.  I  don't 
believe  that  merchants,  anyway,  know  quite  how  in- 
dependent the  traveling  man  feels  who  represents  a 
first  class  house  and  has  a  well  established  trade. 
Not  many  of  the  boys,  though,  wear  the  stiff  neck 
even  though  their  lines  are  strong  and  they  have  a 
good  cinch  on  their  business.  There  isn't  much 
chance,  as  a  general  thing,  for  any  of  us  to  grow  a 
big  bump  of  conceit.  A  man  who  is  stuck  on  him- 
self doesn't  last  long,  it  matters  not  how  good  the 
stuff  is  that  he  sells.  Yet,  once  in  a  while  he  lifts  up 
his  bristles. 

"Well,  sir,  a  few  seasons  ago  I  sold  a  man — you 
all  know  who  I  mean — about  half  of  his  spring  bill, 
amounting  to  $600.  He  gave  the  other  half  to  one 
of  the  rottenest  lines  that  comes  out  of  this  country 
When  I  learned  where  my  good  friend  had  bought 
the  other  half  of  his  bill,  I  felt  sure  that  the  follow- 
ing season  I  would  land  him  for  his  whole  order; 
but  when  I  struck  him  that  next  season,  he  said,  'No, 
I've  bought.  You  can't  expect  to  do  business  with 
me  on  the  sort  of  stuff  that  you  are  selling,'  and  he 
said  it  in  such  a  mean  way  that  it  made  me  mad  as 
blazes.  Yet  I  threw  a  blanket  around  myself  and 
cooled  off.  It  always  harms  a  man,  anyway,  to  fly  off 
the  handle.  I  wasn't  sure  of  another  bill  in  the  town 
as  it  was  getting  a  little  late  in  the  season. 

"After  he  had  told  me  what  he  did,  he  started  to 

295 


Tales  of  the  Road 

wait  on  a  customer  and  I  went  to  the  hotel  to  open 
up.  Just  as  I  was  coming  through  the  office  I  met 
another  merchant  in  the  town  who  handled  as  many 
goods  as  my  old  customer,  and  I  boned  him  right 
there  to  give  me  a  look.  'All  right,'  said  he,  'I  will, 
after  luncheon.'  Come  down  about  half  past  one 
when  all  the  boys  are  back  to  the  store  and  I'll  run 
over  with  you.'  You  know  it  sometimes  comes  easy 
like  this. 

"I  sold  him  his  entire  line,  and  he  was  pleased  with 
what  he  bought  because  the  old  line  he  had  been 
handling,  he  told  me  frankly,  had  not  been  giving 
satisfaction. 

ujust  for  curiosity's  sake  I  dropped  in  on  my  old 
man.  I  wanted  to  find  out  exactly  what  he  was  kick- 
ing about,  anyway. 

"  'Now,  what's  the  matter  with  this  stuff  I've  sold 
you?'  said  I  to  him. 

"  'Well,  come  and  see  for  yourself,'  said  he. 
'Here,  look  at  this  stuff,'  and  he  threw  out  three  or 
four  numbers  of  boys'  goods.  'That's  the  punkest 
plunder,'  said  he,  'that  I  ever  had  in  my  house.' 

"I  at  once  saw  that  the  goods  he  showed  me  were 
the  other  fellow's,  but  I  kept  quiet  for  a  while.  'Look 
at  your  bill,'  said  I.  'There  must  be  some  mistake 
about  this.'  He  turned  to  the  bill  from  my  house 
and  he  couldn't  find  the  stock  numbers.  'Well,  that's 
funny,'  said  he.  'Not  at  all,'  I  replied.  'Look  at  the 
other  man's  bill  and  see  if  you  don't  find  them.' 

296 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Well,  sir,  when  he  saw  that  the  goods  he  was 
kicking  about  had  come  from  my  competitor's  house, 
he  swore  like  a  trooper  and  said  to  me,  'Well,  I  will 
simply  countermand  this  order  I  have  given  and 
I'll  go  right  up  with  you  and  buy  yours.' 

"  'No,  I  guess  not,'  said  I.  'When  I  came  in  this 
morning  you  condemned  me  without  giving  me  a  full 
hearing  and  you  weren't  very  nice  about  it,  either,  so 
I've  just  placed  my  line  with  your  neighbor.  I  will 
show  you  the  order  1  have  just  taken  from  him,'  said 
I,  handing  over  my  order  book." 

"Well,  that  must  have  made  you  feel  good,"  spoke 
up  the  shoeman.  "I  had  pretty  much  the  same  sort 
of  an  experience  this  very  season  down  south  here. 
I  had  been  calling  on  a  fair-sized  merchant  in  the 
town  for  a  couple  of  years.  The  first  time  I  went  to 
his  town  I  sold  him  a  handful.  The  next  time  I 
sold  him  another  handful.  The  third  time  I  called 
on  him  he  didn't  give  me  any  more  business.  I  had 
just  about  marked  him  down  for  a  piker.  You  know 
how  we  all  love  those  pikers,  anyway.  These  fellows 
who  buy  a  little  from  you  and  a  little  from  the  other 
fellow — in  fact,  a  little  from  every  good  line  that 
comes  around — just  to  keep  the  other  merchants  in 
the  town  from  getting  the  line  and  not  giving  enough 
to  any  one  man  to  justify  him  in  taking  care  of  the 
account  or  caring  anything  about  it.  He  was  one  of 
those  fellows  who  would  cut  off  his  nose  and  his  ears 
and  burn  his  eyes  out  just  to  spite  his  face. 

297 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"This  trip,  as  usual,  I  sold  him  his  little  jag.  I  didn't 
say  anything  to  him,  but  thought  it  was  high  time 
I  was  going  out  and  looking  up  another  customer. 
I  finally  found  another  man  who  gave  me  a  decent 
bill — between  seven  and  eight  hundred  dollars — and 
he  promised  me  that  he  would  handle  my  line  right 
along  if  the  stuff  turned  out  all  O.K.  He  said  he 
wasn't  the  biggest  man  in  the  town  at  that  time  but 
that  his  business  was  growing  steadily  and  that  he 
had  just  sold  a  farm  and  was  going  to  put  more 
money  into  the  business  and  enlarge  the  store.  He 
struck  me  as  being  the  man  in  the  town  for  me. 

"My  piker  friend  had  seen  me  walking  over  to  the 
sample  room  with  this  other  man.  When  I  dropped 
around,  after  packing  up,  to  say  good-bye,  he  said 
to  me,  *I  saw  you  going  over  to  your  sample  room 
with  this  man  down  street  here.  I  suppose,  of  course, 
you  didn't  sell  him  anything?' 

"  To  be  sure  I  did,'  said  I.  Why,  why  shouldn't 
I?  You  haven't  been  giving  me  enough  to  pay  my 
expenses  in  coming  to  the  town,  much  less  to  leave  any 
profit  for  me.' 

"  'Well,  if  you  can't  sell  me  exclusively,  you  can't 
sell  me  at  all,'  said  he,  rearing  back. 

"  'All  right,'  said  I.  'I  won't  sell  you  at  all  if 
that's  the  case.  Here's  your  order.  Do  with  it  what 
you  please.  In  fact,  I  won't  even  grant  you  that 
privilege.  I  myself  shall  call  it  off.  Here  goes.' 
And  with  this  I  tore  up  his  order." 

298 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Served  him  right/'  said  the  men's  clothing  man. 
"Did  you  ever  know  Grain  out  on  the  Great  North- 
ern?" 

"Sure,"  said  the  shoe  man.  "Who  doesn't  know 
that  pompous  know-it-all?" 

"Well,  sir,  do  you  know  that  fellow  isn't  satisfied 
with  any  one  he  deals  \vith,  and  he  thinks  that  this 
whole  country  belongs  to  him.  He  wrote  me  several 
seasons  ago  to  come  out  to  see  him.  He  had  heard 
one  of  the  boys  speak  well  of  my  line  of  goods.  I 
went  to  his  town  and  first  thing  I  did  was  to  open 
up.  Then  I  went  into  his  store  and  told  him  I  was 
all  ready. 

"  'Well,  I've  decided,'  said  he,  'that  I  won't  buy 
anything  in  your  line  this  season.' 

"  'You  will  at  least  come  over  and  give  me  a  look, 
in  that  I  have  come  over  at  your  special  request,  will 
you  not?" 

"  4NO,  no !    No  is  no  with  me,  sir.' 

"I  couldn't  get  him  over  there.  He  went  into  his 
office  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  I  had  hard 
lines  in  the  town  that  season.  I  went  up  to  see  an- 
other man  and  told  him  the  circumstances  but  he- 
said,  'No,  I  don't  play  any  second  fiddle,'  and  do  you 
know,  I  didn't  blame  him  a  bit. 

"I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  mark  this  town  off 
my  list,  but  you  know,  business  often  comes  to  us 
from  places  where  we  least  expect  it.  This  is  one  of 
the  things  which  make  road  life  interesting.  How 

299 


Tales  of  the  Road 

often  it  happens  that  you  fully  believe  before  you 
start  out  that  you  are  going  to  do  business  in  cer- 
tain places  and  how  often  your  best  laid  plans  'gang 
aglee !' 

"Another  man  in  this  town  wrote  in  to  the  house 
(this  was  last  season)  for  me  to-  come  to  see  him.  In 
his  letter  he  said  that  he  was  then  clerking  for  Grain 
and  he  was  going  to  quit  there  and  start  up  on  his 
own  hook.  Somehow  or  other  the  old  man  got  on  to 
the  fact  that  his  clerk  was  going  to  start  up  and 
that  he  had  written  in  for  my  line.  He  was  just 
that  mean  that  he  wranted  to  put  as  many  stones  in 
the  path  of  his  old  clerk  as  he  possibly  could,  and 
I  don't  know  whether  it  was  by  accident  or  design 
that  Grain  came  in  here  to  Spokane  the  same  day  that 
his  old  clerk  did,  or  not.  At  any  rate,  they  were  here 
together. 

"Just  about  the  time  I  had  finished  selling  my  bill 
to  Grain's  clerk,  the  old  man  'phoned  up  to  my  room 
that  he  would  like  to  see  me.  This  time  he  was  sweet 
as  sugar.  I  asked  him  over  the  'phone  what  he 
wished.  He  said,  Td  like  to  buy  some  goods  from 
you.  'Don't  care  to  sell  you,'  I  answered  over  the 
wire.  His  old  clerk  was  right  there  in  the  room  then 
and  he  was  good,  too.  He  had  got  together  two  or 
three  well-to-do  farmers  in  the  neighborhood  and 
had  organized  a  big  stock  company  with  the  capital 
stock  fully  paid  up.  The  whole  country  had  become 
tired  of  Grain  and  his  methods,  and  a  new  man  stood 

300 


Tales  of  the  Road 

a  mighty  good  chance  for  success — and  you  know, 
boys,  what  a  bully  good  business  he  has  built  up. 

"  'Why,  what's  the  mater?'  'phoned  back  the  old 
man. 

"  'Just  simply  this:  that  I  have  sold  another  man 
in  your  town,  and  I  don't  care  to  place  my  line  with 
more  than  one,'  I  answered.  'Who  is  it?'  said  he. 
I  told  him. 

"  'Well,  now,  look  here,'  he  came  back  at  me. 
'That  fellow's  just  a  tidbit.  He  thinks  he's  going  to 
cut  some  ice  out  there,  but  he  won't  last  long,  and, 
do  you  know,  if  you'll  just  simply  chop  his  bill  off, 
I'll  promise  to  buy  right  now  twice  as  much  as  he 
has  bought  from  you.' 

"If  there's  a  man  on  the  road  who  is  contemptible 
in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow  traveling  men,  it  is  the  one 
who  will  solicit  a  countermand;  and  the  merchant 
who  will  do  this  sort  of  a  trick  is  even  worse,  you 
know,  boys,  in  our  eyes. 

"  'What  do  you  take  me  for?'  I  'phoned  back. 
'I'm  very  glad  to  have  a  chance,  sir,  to  give  you  a  dose 
of  your  own  medicine.  You  can't  run  any  such  a 
sandy  as  this  on  me,'  and  I  hung  up  the  'phone  on  him 
without  giving  him  the  satisfaction  of  talking  it  out 
any  further.  To  be  sure,  I  would  not  go  down  stairs 
to  look  him  up. 

"Well,  that  must  have  pleased  the  old  man's 
clerk,"  said  one  of  the  boys. 

301 


Tales  of  the  Road 

uSure  it  did.  He  touched  the  button  and  made 
me  have  a  two-bit  straight  cigar  on  him." 

"You  got  even  with  him  all  right,"  said  one  of  my 
hat  friends  who  was  in  the  party ;  but  let  me  tell  you 
how  a  merchant  dowrn  in  Arkansas  once  fixed  me  and 
my  house." 

uOld  Benzine?"  said  the  shoeman. 

uSure;  that's  the  fellow.  How  did  you  hear  about 
it?" 

"Well,  my  house  got  it  the  same  way  yours  did." 

"Ah,  that  fellow  was  a  smooth  one,"  continued 
the  hat  man.  "He  had  burned  out  so  often  that  he 
had  been  nicknamed  Benzine,  but  still  he  had  plenty 
of  money  and  though  my  house  knew  he  was  tricky, 
they  let  him  work  them.  I  didn't  know  anything 
about  the  old  man's  reputation  when  I  called  on 
him.  He  had  recently  come  down  into  Arkansas — 
this  was  when  I  traveled  down  there — and  opened 
up  a  new  store  in  one  of  my  old  towns.  I  didn't  have 
a  good  customer  in  the  town  and  in  shopping  about 
fell  in  on  Benzine. 

"He  kicked  hard  about  looking  at  my  goods  when 
I  asked  him  to  do  so.  He  knew  how  to  play  his  game 
all  right.  He  knew  that  I  would  bring  all  sorts  of 
persuasions  to  bear  upon  him  to  get  him  started  over 
to  my  sample  room,  and  just  about  the  time  he 
thought  I  was  going  to  quit  he  said,  'Veil,  I  look  but 
I  vont  gif  you  an  orter.'  Of  course  that  was  all  I 
wished  for.  When  a  man  on  the  road  can  get  a  mer- 

302 


Tales  of  the  Road 

chant  to  say  he  will  look  at  his  goods,  he  knows  that 
the  merchant  wishes  to  buy  from  somebody  in  his 
line  and  he  feels  that  he  has  ninety-nine  chances  in  a 
hundred  of  selling  him. 

"That  afternoon  Old  Benzine  came  over  and  he 
was  mean.  He  tore  up  the  stuff  and  said  it  was  too 
high  priced,  and  everything  of  that  kind.  He  hag- 
gled over  terms  and  started  to  walk  out  several  times. 
He  made  his  bluff  good  with  me  and  I  thought  he 
was  'giltedge.'  Finally,  though,  I  sold  him  about  a 
thousand  dollars.  The  old  man  had  worked  me  all 
right.  Now  he  began  to  put  the  hooks  into  the  house. 

The  same  day  that  my  order  reached  the  house 
came  a  letter  from  Benzine  stating  that  he  had  looked 
over  his  copy  and  he  wished  they  would  cut  off  half 
of  several  items  on  the  bill.  Ah,  he  was  shrewd,  that 
old  guy.  He  was  working  for  credit.  He  knew 
that  if  he  wrote  to  have  part  of  his  order  cut  off,  the 
credit  man  would  think  he  was  good.  My  house 
couldn't  ship  the  bill  to  him  quickly  enough,  and  they 
wrote  asking  him  to  let  the  whole  bill  stand.  He  was 
shrewd  enough  to  tell  them  no,  that  he  didn't  wish  to 
get  any  more  goods  than  he  could  pay  for.  That 
sent  his  stock  with  the  house  a  sailing.  But  the  old 
chap  wasn't  done  with  them  yet. 

"About  six  weeks  before  the  time  for  discounting 
he  wrote  in  and  said  that  as  his  trade  had  been  very 
good  indeed  they  could  ship  additional  dozens  on  all 

303 


Tales  of  the  Road 

the  items  that  he  had  cut  down  to  half-dozens,  and 
in  this  way  he  ran  his  bill  to  over  $1,300." 

"Well,  you  got  a  good  one  out  of  him  that  sea- 
son, all  right." 

"Yes — where  the  chicken  got  the  ax.  As  soon 
as  Old  Benzine  had  run  in  all  the  goods  he  could, 
he  did  the  shipping  act.  He  left  a  lot  of  empty  boxes 
on  his  shelves  but  shipped  nearly  all  of  his  stock  to 
some  of  his  relatives,  and  then  in  came  the  coal-oil 
can  once  more." 

"Didn't  you  get  any  money  out  of  him  at  all?" 
one  of  the  boys  asked. 

"Money?"  said  the  shoeman.  "Did  you  ever 
hear  of  anybody  getting  money  out  of  Old  Benzine 
unless  they  got  it  before  the  goods  were  shipped?  If 
ever  there  was  a  steal-omaniac,  he  was  it,  sure !" 

With  this,  one  of  the  boys  tossed  a  few  crumbs  to 
the  gold  fish.  The  turtles,  thinking  he  had  made  a 
threatening  motion  toward  them,  quietly  ducked  to 
the  bottom  of  the  pool.  The  white-capped  cook  took 
the  turkey  from  before  the  fire.  The  water  kept  on 
trickling  over  the  ferns  but  its  sound  I  soon  forgot, 
as  another  hat  man  took  up  the  conversation. 

"Most  merchants,"  said  he,  "are  easy  to  get  along 
with.  They  have  so  many  troubles  thrown  upon 
them  that,  as  a  rule,  they  make  as  few  for  us  as  they 
can.  Once  in  awhile  we  strike  a  merchant  who  gets 


smart — " 


3°4 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"But  he  doesn't  win  anything  by  that,"  observed 
the  clothing  man. 

"No;  you  bet  not!  I  used  to  sell  a  man  down  in 
the  valley  who  tried  a  trick  on  me.  I  had  sold  him 
for  two  seasons  and  his  account  was  satisfactory.  An- 
other man  I  knew  started  up  in  the  town  and  he  was 
willing  to  buy  my  goods  from  me  without  the  brands 
in  them.  I  remained  loyal  to  my  first  customer  in 
not  selling  the  new  man  my  branded  goods.  In  fact, 
about  the  only  difference  between  a  great  many  lines 
of  goods  is  the  name,  as  you  know,  and  a  different 
name  in  a  hat  makes  it  a  different  hat.  In  all  lines 
of  business,  just  as  soon  as  one  firm  gets  out  a  pop- 
ular style,  every  other  one  in  the  country  hops  right 
on  to  it,  so  it  is  all  nonsense  for  a  salesman  not  to 
sell  more  than  one  man  in  a  town  when  the  names  in 
the  goods  are  different,  and  the  merchant,  when  such 
is  the  case,  has  no  kick  coming  on  the  man  who  sells 
one  of  his  competitors. 

"Well,  everything  was  all  right  until  Fergus,  cus- 
tomer No.  2,  sent  in  a  mail  order  to  the  house.  They, 
by  mistake  (and  an  inexcusable  one — but  what  can 
you  expect  of  underpaid  stock  boys?)  shipped  out 
to  him  some  goods  branded  the  same  as  those  my 
first  customer,  Stack,  had  in  his  house.  Fergus  wrote 
in  to  me  and  told  me  about  the  mistake.  He  didn't 
wish  to  carry  the  branded  goods  any  more  than  the 
other  man  wished  for  him  to  do  so,  and  asked  that 
some  labels  be  sent  him  to  paste  over  his  boxes. 

305 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"I  was  in  the  house  at  the  time  and  sent  out  sev- 
eral labels  to  Fergus.  At  the  same  time  I  wrote  to 
Stack,  very  frankly  telling  him  of  the  mistake  and 
saying  that  I  regretted  it  and  all  I  could  say  about 
it  was  that  it  was  a  mistake  and  that  it  would  not 
occur  again.  Instead  of  taking  this  in  good  faith, 
he  immediately  came  out  with  a  flaming  ad: 

EVERY    MAN 

IN  THE  COUNTY 

Should  appreciate  the  following: 

Leopard  Hats,  $2.00. 
Sold  everywhere  for  $3.00  and  $3.50. 

"His  goods  had  really  cost  him  $24  a  dozen  and 
he  was  merely  aiming  to  cut  under  the  other  man's 
throat,  but  he  didn't  know  how  he  was  sewing  him- 
self up.  I  wrote  him: 

'  'My  good  friend:  I  have  always  believed  that 
you  felt  kindly  toward  me,  and  now  I  am  doubly 
certain  of  it.  All  that  I  have  a  right  to  expect  of 
my  best  friends  is  that  they  will  advertise  my  goods 
only  so  long  as  they  keep  on  carrying  them — but  you 
have  done  me  even  a  greater  favor.  You  are  adver- 
tising them  for  the  benefit  of  another  customer,  al- 
though you  have  quit  buying  from  me.  Let  me 
thank  you  for  this  especial  favor  which  you  do  me 
and  should  I  ever  be  able  to  serve  you  in  any  way, 
personally,  command  me.' 

"Well,  how  did  he  take  that?"  I  asked. 
306 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Oh,  he  didn't  really  see  that  he  was  advertising 
his  competitor,  and  he  came  back  at  me  with  this 
letter : 

"  Tour  valued  favor  of  the  3Oth  to  hand.  I  as- 
sure you  that  you  owe  me  no  debt  of  gratitude  as  I 
am  always  glad  to  be  of  service  to  my  friends,  and 
under  no  circumstances  do  I  wish  them  to  feel  under 
obligations  to  me.  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  sell 
the  Leopards  at  one  dollar  each,  provided  they  could 
be  bought  at  a  price  lower  than  that  from  you.  But 
at  present  any  one  can  purchase  them  from  me  at  $2 
each,  which  'should  be  appreciated  by  every  man  in 
the  county.'  With  kindest  regards,  very  truly  yours.' 

"Well,  how  did  you  fix  him?"  said  the  shoe  man. 
"Fix  him?  How  did  you  know  I  did?" 
"Oh,  that  was  too  good  a  chance  to  overlook." 
"You  bet  it  was.  When  I  went  into  the  house  a 
few  days  afterwards,  I  picked  out  some  nice  clean 
jobs  in  Leopards  and  I  socked  the  knife  into  the  price 
so  that  Fergus  could  sell  them  at  $1.50  apiece  and 
make  a  good  profit.  I  then  sicked  him  on  to  Stack 
and  there  was  merry  war.  In  the  beginning,  as  I 
fancied  he  would,  Stack  got  a  man  in  another  town 
to  send  in  to  my  house  and  pay  regular  price  for  my 
goods  and  he  continued  to  sell  them  at  $2  each.  Af- 
ter he  had  loaded  up  on  them  pretty  well,  my  other 
man  began  to  put  them  down  to  $1.75,  $1.60,  $1.50, 
and  forced  my  good  friend  to  sell  all  he  had  on 
hand  at  a  loss.  That  deal  cost  him  a  little  bunch." 

307 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"There's  altogether  too  much  of  this  throat-cut- 
ting business  between  merchants.  The  storekeeper 
who  can  hold  his  own  temper  can  generally  hold  his 
own  trade. 

"Well,  sir,  do  you  know  a  fellow  strikes  a  queer 
combination  on  the  road  once  in  awhile.  I  think 
about  the  oddest  deal  I  ever  got  into  in  my  life  was 
in  Kearney,  Nebraska,"  said  an  old-timer. 

"When  I  was  a  young  fellow  I  went  on  the  road. 
I  had  a  clerical  appearance  but  it  was  enforced  more 
or  less  by  necessity.  I  hustled  pretty  hard  catching 
night  trains  and  did  any  sort  of  a  thing  in  order  to 
save  time.  I  wore  a  black  string  necktie  because  it 
saved  me  a  whole  lot  of  trouble.  Once  I  sat  down 
and  calculated  how  much  my  working  time  would  be 
lengthened  by  wearing  string  ties  and  gaiter  shoes, 
and  I'll  tell  you  it  amounts  to  a  whole  lot,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  strain  on  one's  temper  and  conscience 
saved  by  not  having  to  lace  up  shoes  in  a  berth. 

"Well,  I  struck  Kearney  late  one  Saturday  night 
— looking  more  or  less  like  a  young  preacher.  Going 
direct  to  my  friend,  Ward,  he  greeted  me  in  a  cordial, 
drawling  sort  of  fashion  and  with  very  little  trouble 
(although  that  was  my  first  time  in  the  town)  I  made 
an  engagement  to  show  him  some  straw  hats. 

"It  is  rather  the  custom  when  one  gets  west  of 
Omaha  to  do  business  on  Sunday,  and  so  habituated 
had  I  become  to  this  practice  that  I  was  rather  sur- 
prised when  my  friend,  Ward,  said  to  me :  'Now,  I'll 

308 


Tales  of  the  Road 

see  you  on  Monday  morning.  Yes,  on  Monday  morn- 
ing. To-morrow,  you  know,  is  the  Sabbath,  and  you 
will  find  here  at  the  hotel  a  nice,  comfortable  place 
to  stay.  The  cooking  is  excellent  and  the  rooms  are 
nice  and  tidy,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  enjoy  it. 
If  I  can  do  anything  further  to  add  to  your  pleasure 
I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  have  the  opportunity.  Per- 
haps you  will  come  up  to  our  Sunday  School  to-mor- 
row morning.  I  am  Superintendent  and  I  shall  see 
that  good  care  is  taken  of  you.  May  we  not  expect 
you  up?7 

"Of  course  I  wanted  to  get  a  stand  in — I  confess 
it — and,  furthermore,  I  had  not  forgotten  my  early 
training,  and  you  know  that  boys  on  the  road  are  not 
such  a  bad  tribe  as  we  are  ofttimes  mlade  out  to  be. 
So  I  promised  Brother  Ward  that  I  would  go  up  the 
next  morning. 

"That  part  of  it  was  all  very  good  but  how  do 
you  suppose  I  felt  when,  after  the  lessons  had  been 
read,  I  was  called  upon  to  address  the  Sabbath 
school?  I  was  up  against  it,  but  being  in  I  had  to 
make  good;  and  it  often  happens  that,  when  a  fellow 
is  in  the  midst  of  people  who  assume  that  he  is  wise, 
wisdom  comes  to  him. 

"The  night  before  I  had  come  in  on  a  freight.  I 
was  mighty  tired,  fell  asleep,  and  was  carried  past 
the  station  about  a  mile  and  a  half.  All  at  once  I 
woke  up  in  the  caboose — I  had  been  stretched  out  on 
the  cushions — and  asked  the  conductor  how  far  it 

309 


Tales  of  the  Road 

was  to  Kearney.  'Kearney?'  said  the  conductor. 
'Kearney?  We  are  a  mile  and  a  half  past.'  At  the 
same  time  he  sent  out  a  brakeman  who  signaled  down 
the  train.  I  was  fully  two  miles  from  the  depot 
when  I  got  off,  lugging  a  heavy  grip.  I  didn't  know 
it  was  so  far.  I  had  just  one  thing  to  do,  that  was 
to  hoof  it  down  the  track.  Scared?  Bet  your  life! 
I  thought  every  telegraph  pole  was  a  hobo  laying  for 
me,  clean  down  to  the  station.  Luckily  there  was  an 
electric  light  tower  in  the  center  of  the  town  and  this 
was  a  sort  of  guide-post  for  me  and  it  helped  to  keep 
up  my  courage. 

"In  the  little  talk  that  I  had  to  make  to  the  Sunday 
School,  having  this  experience  of  the  night  before  so 
strong  in  my  mind,  I  told  them  of  the  wandering  life 
I  had  to  live,  of  how  on  every  hand,  as  thick  as  tele- 
graph poles  along  the  railway,  stood  dangers  and 
temptations ;  but  that  I  now  looked  back  and  that  my 
light  tower  had  always  been  the  little  Sunday  School 
of  my  boyhood  days. 

"When  you  get  right  down  to  it,  we  all  have  a 
little  streak  of  sentiment  in  us,  say  what  you  will, 
when  in  boyhood  we  have  had  the  old-time  religion 
instilled  into  us.  It  sticks  in  spite  of  everything.  It 
doesn't  at  any  time  altogether  evaporate. 

"Well,  sir,  I  thought  that  I  was  all  solid  with 
Brother  Ward.  So  the  next  morning  I  figured  out 
that,  as  I  could  not  go  west,  where  I  wished  to,  I 
could  run  up  on  a  branch  road  and  sandwich  in  an- 

310 


Tales  of  the  Road 

other  town  without  losing  any  time.  I  went  to  him 
early  Monday  morning  and  asked  if  it  would  be  just 
as  convenient  for  him  to  see  me  at  three  o'clock  that 
afternoon. 

"  'Oh,  yes,  indeed;  that  will  suit  me  all  the  bet- 
ter,' said  Brother  Ward.  'That  will  give  me  an  op- 
portunity to  look  over  my  stock  of  goods  and  see 
just  what  I  ought  to  order.' 

"I  made  the  town  on  the  branch  road  and  was 
back  at  2  130.  When  I  went  into  my  sample  room, 
a  friend  of  mine,  a  competitor,  had  just  packed  up. 
'Hello,'  said  I,  'how  are  things  going,  Billy?' 

"  'Oh,  fairly  good,'  said  he.  'I  have  just  got  a 
nice  bill  of  straw  goods  out  of  Ward,  here.  Whom 
do  you  sell?' 

:'  'Well,  that's  one  on  me !'  I  exclaimed.  Then  I 
told  my  friend  of  my  engagement  with  Ward,  and 
bought  the  cigars. 

"But  anyhow  I  opened  up  and  went  over  to  see 
Brother  Ward.  I  got  right  down  to  business  and 
said:  'Brother  Ward,  my  samples  are  open  and  I 
am  at  your  service.'  'Well,  Brother,'  said  he,  'I  have 
been  looking  over  my  stock'  (he  had  about  a  dozen 
and  a  half  of  fly-specked  straw  hats  on  his  show  case, 
left  over  from  the  year  before  and  not  worth  4Oc), 
'and  I  have  about  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I'll 
work  off  the  old  goods  I  have  in  preference  to  put- 
ting in  any  new  ones.  You  see  if  I  buy  the  new  ones 


Tales  of  the  Road 

they  will  move  first  and  the  old  goods  will  keep 
getting  older.' — An  old  gag,  you  know! 

"I  saw  that  he  was  squirming,  but  I  thought  I 
would  pin  him  down  hard  and  fast,  so  I  asked  him 
the  pat  question:  'Then  you  have  not  bought  any 
straw  hats  for  this  season's  business,  Brother  Ward?' 
'Nope,  nope,'  said  he — telling  what  I  knew  to  be  a 
point-blank  lie. 

"  'Well,  Brother  Ward,'  said  I,  'we  are  both  con- 
fronted by  a  Christian  duty.  A  fellow  competitor 
and  traveling  man  told  me  just  a  little  while  ago  that 
he  had  sold  you  an  out-and-out  order  of  straw  hats. 
Now  I  know  that  he  is  not  telling  the  truth  because 
you,  a  most  reputable  citizen  of  this  town  and  a  most 
worthy  Superintendent  of  the  Sunday  School,  have 
told  me  out-and-out  that  you  have  not  bought  any 
goods.  Now,  to-night,  when  you  go  home,  do  you 
not  think  that  it  is  your  duty,  as  well  as  mine,  to  ask 
the  Lord  to  have  mercy  on  and  to  forgive  the  erring 
brother  who  has  told  such  a  falsehood?  I  am  sure 
that  had  he  been  trained  to  walk  in  the  straight  and 
narrow  path  he  would  not  have  done  so.  Your 
prayers,  I  am  sure,  will  avail  much.' 

"When  Brother  Ward  saw  that  I  had  him  he 
colored  from  the  collar  up,  and  when  I  left  him  and 
said  'Peace  be  with  thee!'  his  face  was  as  red  as  the 
setting  sun." 

"I  have  a  customer,"  said  the  furnishing  goods 
man,  "who  beats  the  world  on  complaints.  Every 

312 


Tales  of  the  Road 

time  I  go  to  see  him  he  must  always  tell  me  his 
troubles  before  I  can  get  around  to  doing  business 
with  him.  If  you  put  business  at  him  point-blank, 
it  isn't  very  long  before  he  twists  the  talk.  So  now 
I  usually  let  him  tell  his  troubles  before  I  say  any- 
thing to  him  about  business.  The  last  time  I  went  in 
to  see  him — he  is  Sam  Moritsky,  in  the  clothing  busi- 
ness down  in  Los  Angeles — I  said,  'Hello,  Sam,  how 
are  you  ?'  He  answered : 

"  'Der  Talmud  id  say  uHappy  ees  de  man  who  ees 
contentet,"  but  it  says  in  anodder  place,  "Few  are 
contentet."  I'm  a  seek  man.  De  trobble  in  dis 
world  ees,  a  man  vants  bread  to  leeve  on  ven  he 
hasn't  got  dot.  And  ven  he  gets  der  bread  he  es 
sotisfite  only  a  leetle  vile.  He  soon  vants  butter  on 
id.  Ven  he  gets  der  butter  in  a  leetle  vile  he  vants 
meat,  and  den  he  vants  vine  and  a  goot  cigar,  and  ven 
he  gets  all  dese  t'ings,  he  gets  seek.  I  am  a  seek  man. 

"  'Vonce  I  vanted  a  house  on  Cap'tol  'ell  (Capitol 
Hill) — seex  thousand  tollars  it  costet.  Eef  I  got  id 
feeften  'undret — could  haf  borrowed  dot  much — I 
vould  haf  bought  id,  but  I  couldn't  get  dot  feeften 
'undret,  and  now  I  am  glat.  It  vould  have  costet 
seexty  fife  tollars  a  mont  to  leeve  and  den  I  haf  to 
geeve  a  party  and  a  sopper  and  somet'ings  and  I  make 
a  beeg  show, — a  piano  for  my  dotter,  a  fine  dress  for 
my  vife,  t'eater  and  all  dot,  and  first  t'ing  I  know, 
miihulla  (I  go  broke)  ! 

"  'Veil,  it's  all  ride  eef  I  wasn't  a  seek  man.    Dey 

313 


Talcs  of  the  Road 

say  dese  ees  a  goot  country.  I  say  no.  My  fadder's 
family  vants  to  come  to  dese  country.  I  say  no.  In 
Russia  a  man  he  half  a  goot  time.  Vriday  night  he 
close  de  store  at  seex  o'glock.  He  puts  on  his  Sonday 
clothes,  beeg  feast  all  day  Sonday,  dance,  vine,  lots 
of  goot  t'ings.  Veek  days  he  geds  down  to  beesness 
at  eight  o'clock — at  ten  o'glock  he  has  coffee  and  den 
in  a  leetle  vile  he  goes  home  and  eats  lonch.  Den  he 
takes  a  nap.  De  cheeldon,  dey  valk  on  der  toes 
t'rough  de  room.  "Papa's  asleep,"  dey  say.  Seex 
o'glock  he  come  home,  beeg  deener,  he  smokes  hees 
pipe,  goes  to  bet, — and  de  same  t'ing  over  again. 

"  *I  vork  so  hard  in  dese  contry.  I  am  a  seek  man. 
Here  I  vork  sefen  days  in  de  veek  from  sefen  in  de 
morning  to  elefen  at  night,  and  sometimes  twelf. 
Only  vonce  last  year  I  go  to  t'eater  in  de  afternoon. 
Ven  I  com  home  I  catch  'ell  from  my  vife.  She  say, 
"You  safe  money,  Sam,  and  ve  get  oud  of  dese  bond- 
age," and  I  say  I  must  haf  a  leetle  recreations.  Sun- 
day all  day  I  keep  open.  Von  Sunday  night  I  say  I 
go  home  and  take  my  vife  and  my  cheeldon  and  I  go 
to  t'eater.  Ven  I  go  to  put  de  key  into  de  door  here 
comes  a  customer  een,  and  I  sell  'eem  tventy-fife 
tollars — feeften  tollars  brofit.  I  vould  haf  lostct 
dot  feeften  tollars  and  vat  I  vould  haf  paid  to  go 
to  t'eater  eef  I  had  closed  op. 

(  'Besides,  here  at  dis  place  all  de  family  helps. 
Even  my  leetle  goil,  she  goes  oud  to  buy  me  a  cigar 
von  day,  and  she  ask  de  man  dot  sells  de  cigar  to  buy 


Tales  of  the  Road 

something  from  papa.  He  vants  some  boys'  shoes.  I 
haf  none.  She  goes  across  de  streedt  and  buys  a  pair 
und  sells  dem  for  a  tollar — feefty-five  cents  brofit.  I 
gif  my  leetle  goil  a  neeckle  and  I  keep  de  feefty  cents. 
Dots  de  va^  it  goes.  I  could  not  do  dot  eef  I  leefed 
on  Cap'tol  'ell. 

4  'But  den  I  am  a  seek  man,  but  I  am  better  off 
as  de  man  who  leefs  on  Cap'tol  'ell.  He  is  so  beesy. 
He  eats  his  deener  in  de  store.  He  has  so  many 
trobbles  because  he  vants  to  make  hees  fortune  beeger. 
Vat's  de  use?  Here  I  am  contentet.  I  go  op  stairs 
and  netting  betters  me  vile  I  eat  deener.  Now,  I  say 
vat  de  Talmud  say  ees  right.  Happy  ees  de  man 
who  ees  contentet.  Eet  vould  be  all  righdt  eef  I  vas 
not  a  seek  man.' 

"When  he  got  through  with  this  speech  I  chewed 
the  rag  with  him  about  business  for  half  an  hour,  as 
I  always  had  to  do,  finally  telling  him,  as  a  last  in- 
ducement which  I  always  threw  out,  that  I  had  some 
lots  'to  close.'  This  was  the  only  thing  that  would 
make  him  forget  that  he  was  (a  seek  man.'  And  when 
I  get  right  down  to  it,  I  believe  I  get  more  actual  en- 
joyment out  of  selling  Sam  than  from  any  customer 
I  have." 

"Speaking  of  your  man  Sam,"  said  one  of  the  hat 
men,  "reminds  me  of  a  customer  I  once  had  with  the 
same  name.  But  my  Sam  was  a  bluffer.  He  was  one 
of  the  kind  that  was  always  making  kicks  that  he 
might  get  a  few  dollars  rebate.  I  stood  this  sort  of 

315 


Tales  of  the  Road 

work  for  a  few  seasons  but  I  finally  got  tired  of  it 
and,  besides,  I  learned  that  the  more  I  gave  in  to  him 
the  more  I  had  to  yield.  A  few  years  ago  when  I 
was  traveling  in  Wisconsin,  I  went  into  his  store  and 
before  he  let  go  of  my  hand  he  began:  'Ah,  that 
last  bill  was  a  holy  terror.  Why  doesn't  your  house 
send  out  good  goods?  Why,  I'll  have  to  sell  all  those 
goods  at  a  loss,  and  I  need  them,  bad,  too.  They 
aint  no  use  of  my  tryin'  to  do  no  more  business  with 
you.  I  like  to  give  you  the  business,  you  know,  but  I 
can't  stand  the  treatment  that  the  house  is  giving  me. 
They  used  to  send  out  part  of  their  goods  all  right, 
but  here  lately  it  is  getting  so  that  every  item  is  just 
rotten.' 

"I  let  Sam  finish  his  kick  and,  as  I  started  out  the 
door  I  merely  said,  'All  right,  Sam,  I'll  see  you  after 
awhile  and  fix  this  up  all  right.  I  want  to  go  down 
and  work  on  my  samples  a  little.' 

"As  I  saw  him  pass  on  the  other  side  of  the  street 
going  home  to  dinner,  I  slid  up  to  his  store  and  took 
all  his  last  shipment  from  his  shelves  and  stacked 
them  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  About  the  time  I 
had  finished  doing  this  he  came  back. 

"  Why,  what  are  you  doing?'  said  he. 

"  'Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Sam.  I  don't  want  you  to 
have  anything  in  the  house  that  doesn't  suit  you,  and 
I  would  a  great  deal  rather  than  you  would  fire  all 
this  stuff  back  to  the  house.  Look  up  and  see  the 
amount  of  freight  charges  you  paid  on  them.  Mean- 


Tales  of  the  Road 

time  I'll  run  down  to  the  hotel  and  get  my  book  and 
make  you  out  a  check  for  whatever  it  comes  to.  Come 
on  down  to  the  corner  with  me  anyway,  Sam.  Let's 
have  a  cigar  and  take  the  world  easy.  I'm  not  going 
out  tonight.' 

"Sam  went  down  to  the  corner  with  me.  In  a  few 
minutes  I  returned  to  the  store  with  my  check  book 
in  hand.  As  I  went  into  his  store  Sam  was  putting 
my  goods  back  on  the  shelves. 

"  'Got  your  samples  open?'  he  said. 

"  'Sure,  Sam,'  said  I.  'Did  you  suppose  I  was 
going  to  let  you  bluff  me  this  way?'  And  that  was 
the  last  time  he  ever  tried  to  work  the  rebate  racket 


on  me." 


"So  long  as  a  bluffer  is  warm  about  it,"  said  the 
shoe  man,  "it's  all  right;  but  I  do  hate  to  go  up 
against  one  of  those  coldbloods,  even  if  he  isn't  a 
bluffer." 

"That  depends,"  said  the  clothing  man.  "There's 
one  man  I  used  to  call  on  and  every  time  I  went  to 
see  him  I  felt  like  feeling  of  his  pulse  to  see  if  it 
were  beating.  If  I  had  taken  hold  of  his  wrist  I 
would  not  have  been  surprised  to  find  that  the  artery 
was  filled  with  fine  ice.  Gee !  but  how  he  froze  me. 
Somehow  I  could  always  get  him  to  listen  to  me,  but 
I  could  never  get  him  to  buy. 

"One  day,  to  my  surprise,  the  minute  I  struck  him 
he  said,  'Samples  open?'  And  when  I  told  him  'Yes' 
he  had  his  man  in  my  department  turn  over  a  cus- 

317 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tomer  that  he  was  waiting  on,  to  another  one  of  the 
boys,  and  took  him  right  down  to  the  sample  room.  I 
never  sold  an  easier  bill  in  my  life,  so  you  see  a  cold 
blood  is  all  right  if  he  freezes  out  the  other  fellow." 
The  goose  that  had  twirled  so  long  before  the  pine 
log  blaze  was  now  put  before  us.  The  Spanish 
Senor  with  his  violin  started  the  program,  and  our 
tales  for  the  evening  were  at  an  end. 


3*8 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HIRING  AND  HANDLING  SALESMEN. 

TO  hire  and  handle  salesmen  is  the  most  impor- 
tant work  of  the  head  of  the  house.  When  a 
man  goes  out  on  the  road  to  represent  a  firm, 
his  traveling  expenses  alone  are  from  five  to  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  day,  and  sometimes  even  fifty.  His  sal- 
ary is  usually  as  much  as  his  expenses,  if  not  more. 
If  a  salesman  does  not  succeed,  a  great  portion  of  his 
salary  and  expenses  is  a  dead  loss,  and,  further,  the 
firm  is  making  a  still  greater  loss  if  he  does  not  do 
the  business.  In  fact,  if  a  poor  man,  succeeding  a 
good  one,  falls  down,  his  house  can  very  easily  lose 
many  thousands  of  dollars  by  not  holding  the  old 
trade  of  the  man  whose  place  he  took.  If  all  the 
wholesale  houses  in  Chicago,  say,  which  have  a  good 
line  of  salesmen  were,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year,  to 
lose  all  of  those  salesmen  and  replace  them  with  dum- 
mies, three- fourths  of  these  firms  would  go  broke  in 
from  six  months  to  three  years.  This  is  how  impor- 
tant the  salesman  is  to  his  firm. 

I  put  hiring  and  handling  of  salesmen  before  hav- 
ing a  strong  line  of  goods,  because  if  the  proper  sales- 
men are  hired  and  are  handled  right,  they  will  soon 

319 


Tales  of  the  Road 

compel  the  house  to  put  out  the  right  line  of  goods. 
Just  as  a  retail  merchant  should  consult  with  his 
clerks  about  what  he  should  buy,  so,  likewise,  should 
the  head  of  the  wholesale  house  find  out  from  his  men 
on  the  road  what  they  think  will  sell  best.  The  sales- 
man rubs  up  against  the  consumer  and  knows  at  first 
hand  what  the  customer  actually  wants. 

When  the  head  of  a  house  has  a  man  to  hire,  the 
first  man  he  looks  for  is  one  who  has  an  established 
trade  in  the  territory  to  be  covered — a  trade  in  his 
line  of  business.  A  house  I  have  in  mind  which,  ten 
years  ago,  was  one  of  the  top  notchers  in  this  country, 
has  gone  almost  to  the  foot  of  the  class  because  the 
"old  man"  who  hired  and  handled  the  salesmen  in 
that  house  died  and  was  succeeded  by  younger  heads 
not  nearly  so  wise. 

The  still  hunt  was  the  old  man's  method.  When 
he  needed  a  salesman  for  a  territory  he  would  go  out 
somewhere  in  that  territory  himself  and  feel  about  for 
a  man.  He  would  usually  make  friends  with  the  mer- 
chants and  find  out  from  them  the  names  of  the  best 
men  on  the  road  and  his  chances  for  getting  one  of 
them.  The  merchants,  you  know,  can  always  spot 
the  bright  salesmen.  When  they  rub  up  against  them 
a  few  times  they  know  the  sort  of  mettle  they  are 
made  of.  The  merchant  appreciates  the  bright  sales- 
man whether  he  does  business  with  him  or  not  and  the 
salesman  who  is  a  man  will  always  find  welcome 
under  the  merchant's  roof.  Salesmen  are  the  teachers 

320 


Tales  of  the  Road 

of  the  merchant,  and  the  merchant  knows  this. 
Whenever  he  is  planning  to  change  locations,  build 
a  new  store,  move  to  some  other  town,  put  in  a  new 
department,  or  make  any  business  change  whatsoever, 
it  is  with  traveling  men  that  he  consults.  They  can 
tell  him  whether  or  not  the  new  location  will  be  a 
good  one  and  they  can  tell  him  if  the  new  department 
which  he  is  figuring  on  starting  is  proving  profitable 
over  the  country  in  general.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
when  the  traveling  man  is  expecting  to  make  a  change 
of  houses,  he  often  asks  the  advice  of  the  merchant. 

One  of  the  biggest  clothing  salesmen  in  the  United 
States  once  told  me  how  this  very  old  man  hired  him. 
Said  Simon,  "When  I  started  out  on  the  road  my  hair 
was  moss.  I  almost  had  to  use  a  horse  comb  to  currie 
it  down  so  I  could  wear  my  hat.  Heavens,  but  I  was 
green !  I  had  been  a  stock  boy  for  a  kyke  house  and 
they  put  me  out  in  Colorado.  Don't  know  whether 
I  have  made  much  progress  or  not.  My  forefathers 
carried  stuff  on  their  backs ;  I  carry  it  in  trunks.  Al- 
though changing  is  often  bad  business,  the  best  step 
I  ever  made  was  to  leave  the  little  house  and  go  with 
a  bigger  one.  I  had  been  piking  along  and  while  I 
was  giving  my  little  firm  entire  satisfaction,  I  was  not 
pleasing  myself  with  what  I  was  doing.  I  could  go 
out  in  the  brush  with  my  line,  riding  on  a  wagon  be- 
hind bronchos,  where  a  first-class  man  wouldn't,  and 
dig  up  a  little  business  with  the  yocles,  but  I  couldn't 
walk  into  a  mocker  (big  merchant)  and  do  business 

321 


Tales  of  the  Road 

with  him.  Yet,  when  I  first  started  out  I  was  fool 
enough  to  try  it  and  I  made  several  friends  among 
the  bigger  merchants  of  Denver.  But  this  did  me  no 
harm. 

"One  day,  when  I  went  in  to  see  one  of  these  big 
men  in  Denver,  he  said  to  me,  'Look  here,  Simon, 
you're  a  mighty  good  fellow  and  I'd  like  to  do  busi- 
ness with  you,  but  you  know  I  can't  handle  any  goods 
from  the  concern  you  represent.  Why  don't  you  make 
a  change  ?'  I  said  to  him,  *  Well,  I'm  really  thinking 
about  it,  but  I  don't  know  just  where  I  can  get  in.' 
He  said,  'I  think  I  can  give  you  a  good  tip.  Old 
man  Strauss  from  Chicago  is  out  here  looking  for 
a  man  for  this  territory.  He  was  in  to  see  me  only 
yesterday  and  told  me  he  was  on  the  lookout  for  a 
bright  fellow.  He's  stopping  up  at  the  Windsor  and 
I'd  advise  you  to  go  over  and  get  next  if  you  can.' 

"  'Thank  you  very  much,'  said  I;  and  I  went  over 
to  the  Windsor — I  was  putting  up  there — and  asked 
the  head  clerk,  who  was  a  good  friend  of  mine,  where 
Strauss  was. 

"  'Why,  Simon,'  said  he,  'he's  just  gone  down  to 
the  depot  to  take  the  D.  &  R.  G.  for  Colorado 
Springs,  but  you  will  have  no  trouble  finding  him  if 
you  want  to  see  him.  They're  not  running  any  sleep- 
ers on  the  train.  It's  just  a  local  between  here  and 
Pueblo.  He  wears  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  is  bald, 
and  smokes  all  the  time.' 

"I  called  a  cab,  rushed  down  to  the  depot,  checked 

322 


Tales  of  the  Road 

my  trunks  to  Colorado  Springs,  and  jumped  on  the 
train  just  as  she  was  pulling  out.  I  spotted  the  old 
man  as  I  went  into  the  coach.  He  was  sitting  in  a 
double  seat  with  his  feet  up  on  the  cushions.  I  got 
a  whiff  of  his  'Lottie  Lee'  ten  feet  away.  Luckily 
for  me,  all  the  seats  in  the  car  except  the  one  the  old 
man  had  his  feet  on,  were  occupied,  so  I  marched  up 
and  said,  'Excuse  me,  sir,  I  dislike  to  make  you  un- 
comfortable,' and  sat  down  in  front  of  him. 

"The  old  man  saw  that  I  was  one  of  the  boys  and, 
as  he  wanted  to  pump  me,  he  warmed  up  and  offered 
me  one  of  his  Lotties.  I  shall  never  forget  that  cigar. 
Smoke  'em  in  Colorado, — smell  'em  in  Europe!  I 
managed  to  drop  it  on  the  floor  in  a  few  minutes  so 
that  I  could  switch  onto  one  of  mine.  I  pulled  out  a 
pair  of  two-bit-straights  and  passed  one  over,  lighting 
the  other  for  myself. 

"  'Dot  vas  a  goot  seecar,'  said  the  old  man.  'You 
are  on  der  roat?' 

"  'Yes,'  said  I. 

"  'Vat's  your  bees'ness?' 

"  'I'm  selling  clothing.' 

"  'Vat?    Veil,  I  am  in  dot  bees'ness  myself.' 

"  'Who  do  you  travel  for?'  said  I,  playing  the  inno- 
cent. 

"  'I'm  not  on  de  roat,'  said  the  old  man.  'I  am 
just  out  on  a  leetle  trip  for  my  healt  I  am  a  monu- 
facturer.  Who  do  you  trafel  for?' 

UI  tbld  him  and  then  tried  tb  swittfe  the  conversa- 

3*3 


Tales  of  the  Road 

tion  to  something  else.  I  knew  the  old  man  wouldn't 
let  me  do  it. 

"  'V'ere  do  you  trafel?'  said  he. 

"  'Oh,  Colorado,  Utah,  and  up  into  Montana  and 
Wyoming,'  I  answered. 

"The  old  man  took  his  feet  off  the  cushions  and  his 
arms  from  the  back  of  his  seat.  I  thought  I  had  him 
right  then. 

"  'Dot's  a  goot  contry,'  said  he.  'How  long  haf 
you  been  in  deese  beezness?'  'Five  years,'  said  I. 
'Always  mit  de  same  house?'  'Yes,'  said  I,  'I  don't 
believe  in  changing.'  The  old  man  had  let  his  cigar 
go  out  and  he  lit  a  match  and  let  it  burn  his  finger.  I 
was  sure  that  he  was  after  me  then. 

"I  didn't  tell  him  that  I  had  been  a  stock  boy  for 
nearly  four  years  and  on  the  road  a  little  over  one. 
It  is  a  good  sign,  you  know,  if  a  man  has  been  with  a 
house  a  long  time. 

"  'How's  beezness  this  season?'  said  he. 

"  'Oh,  it's  holding  up  to  the  usual  mark,'  I  said 
like  an  old  timer. 

"  'Who  do  you  sell  in  Denver?'  said  he. 

"That  was  a  knocker.  'Denver  is  a  hard  town  to 
do  business  in,'  said  I.  'In  cities,  you  know,  the  big 
people  are  hard  to  handle  and  the  little  ones  you  must 
look  out  for.5  That  was  another  strong  point;  I 
wanted  him  to  see  that  I  didn't  care  to  do  business 
with  shaky  concerns. 

324 


Tales  of  the  Road 

:'  'Veil,'  said  he  after  a  while,  'you  shouldt  haf  a 
stronger  line  and  den  you  could  sell  de  beeg  vons.' 

'Yes,  but  it  is  a  bad  thing  for  a  man  to  change,' 
said  I.  I  knew  that  I  was  already  hired  and  I  was 
striking  him  for  as  big  a  guaranty  as  I  could  get,  and 
my  game  worked  all  right  because  he  asked  me  to 
take  supper  with  him  that  night  in  the  Springs  and 
before  we  left  the  table  he  hired  me  for  the  next  year. 

"I  came  very  near  not  fulfilling  my  contract, 
though,  because  after  I  had  promised  the  old  man  I 
would  come  to  him  he  said,  'Shake  and  haf  a  seecar,' 
and  I  had  to  smoke  another  Lottie  Lee." 

It  is  on  the  still  hunt  that  the  best  men  are  trapped. 
Experienced  salesmen — good  ones — always  have  po- 
sitions and  are  not  often  looking  for  jobs.  To  get 
them  the  wholesaler  must  go  after  them  and  the  one 
who  does  this  gets  the  best  men.  Hundreds  of  appli- 
cations come  in  yearly  to  every  wholesale  house  in 
America.  These  come  so  often  that  little  attention 
is  paid  to  them.  When  a  wise  house  wishes  salesmen, 
they  either  put  out  their  scouts  or  go  themselves  di- 
rectly after  the  men  they  want.  And  the  shrewd  head 
of  a  house  is  not  looking  for  cheap  men;  he  knows 
that  a  poor  man  is  a  great  deal  more  expensive  than 
a  good  one.  Successful  wholesalers  do  not  bat  their 
eyes  at  paying  a  first-class  man  a  good  price. 

Recently  I  knew  of  one  firm  that  had  had  a  big- 
salesman  taken  from  them.    What  did  they  do  to  get 
another  to  take  his  place?    The  manager  did  not  put 

325 


Tales  of  the  Road 

out  some  cheap  fellow,  but  he  went  to  another  man 
who,  although  he  was  unfamiliar  with  the  territory, 
was  a  good  shoe  man,  and  guaranteed  him  that  he 
would  make  four  thousand  dollars  a  year  net,  and 
gave  him  a  good  chance  on  a  percentage  basis  of 
making  six  thousand.  The  experienced  man  in  a  line, 
although  he  has  never  traveled  over  the  territory  for 
which  the  wholesaler  wishes  a  man,  stands  next  in 
line  for  an  open  position.  Houses  know  that  a  man 
who  has  done  well  on  one  territory  in  a  very  little 
while  will  establish  a  trade  in  another.  One  house 
that  I  know  of  has,  in  recent  years,  climbed  right  to 
the  front  because  it  would  not  let  a  thousand  dollars 
or  more  stand  in  the  way  of  hiring  a  first-class  man. 
The  head  of  this  house  went  after  a  good  salesman 
when  he  wanted  one. 

This  is  the  way  in  which  the  head  of  a  marvelously 
successful  manufacturing  firm  hired  many  of  their 
salesmen :  They  have  this  man  talk  to  four  different 
members  of  the  firm  single-handed;  these  men  put  all 
sorts  of  blocks  in  the  way  of  the  man  whom  they 
may  possibly  hire.  They  wish  to  test  the  fellow's 
grit.  One  successful  salesman  told  me  that  when  they 
hired  him  he  talked  to  only  one  man,  and  only  a  few 
minutes;  this  man  took  him  to  the  head  of  the  house 
and  said, 

"Look  here;  there's  no  use  of  your  putting  this 
man  through  the  turkish  bath  any  longer;  he  is  a  man 

326 


Tales  of  the  Road 

that  I  would  buy  goods  from  if  I  were  a  merchant." 
•  "Well,  I'll  take  him,  then,"  said  the  president. 

If  I  may  offer  a  word  of  advice  to  him  who  hires 
the  salesmen  I  would  say  this :  Try  to  be  sure  when 
you  hire  a  man  to  hire  one  that  has  been  a  success  at 
whatever  he  has  done.  While  it  is  best  to  get  a  man 
who  is  acquainted  with  your  line  and  with  the  terri- 
tory over  which  he  is  to  travel,  do  not  be  afraid  to 
put  on  a  man  who  knows  nothing  of  your  merchandise 
and  is  a  stranger  to  every  one  in  the  territory  you  wish 
to  cover.  If  he  has  already  been  a  successful  sales- 
man he  will  quickly  learn  about  the  goods  he  is  to  sell, 
and  after  one  trip  he  will  be  acquainted  with  the 
territory. 

The  main  thing  for  a  salesman  to  know  when  you 
hire  him  is  not  how  the  trains  run,  not  what  your 
stuff  is — he  will  soon  learn  this — but  how  to  approach 
men!  and  gam  their  confidence!  And  it  is  needless 
for  me  to  say  that  the  one  way  to  do  this  is  to  BE 
SQUARE! 

A  house  does  not  wish  a  man  like  a  young  fellow 
I  once  knew  of.  He  had  been  clerking  in  a  store  and 
had  made  application  to  a  Louisville  house  for  a  posi- 
tion on  the  road.  When  he  talked  the  matter  over 
with  the  head  of  the  house — it  was  a  small  one  and 
always  will  be — they  would  not  offer  him  any  salary 
except  on  a  commission  basis,  but  they  agreed  to  allow 
him  five  dollars  a  day  for  traveling  expenses.  He 
was  to  travel  down  in  Kentucky.  Five  dollars  a  day 

327 


Tales  of  the  Road 

looked  mighty  big  to  the  young  man  who  had  been 
working  for  thirty  dollars  a  month.  He  figured  that 
he  could  hire  a  team  and  travel  with  that,  and  by 
stopping  with  his  kin  folks  or  farmers  and  feeding  his 
own  horses,  that  he  could  save  from  his  expense 
money  at  least  three  dollars  a  day. 

His  territory  was  down  in  the  Coon  Range  country 
where  he  was  kin  to  nearly  everybody.  He  lasted 
just  one  short  trip. 

A  young  fellow  who  once  went  to  St.  Louis  is  the 
sort  of  a  man  that  the  head  of  a  house  is  looking  for. 
When  this  young  fellow  went  to  call  he  put  up  a 
strong  talk,  but  the  'old  man'  said  to  him : 

"Come  in  and  see  us  again.  We  haven't  anything 
for  you  now." 

That  same  afternoon  this  fellow  walked  straight 
into  the  old  man's  office  again,  with  a  bundle  under 
him  arm. 

"Well,  I  am  here,"  said  he,  "and  I've  brought  my 
old  clothes  along.  While  I  wish  to  be  a  salesman  for 
you,  put  me  to  piling  nail  kegs  or  anything  you  please, 
and  don't  pay  me  a  cent  until  you  see  whether  or  not 
I  can  work." 

The  eld  man  touched  a  button  calling  a  department 
manager  and  said  to  him : 

"Here,  put  this  young  man  to  work.  He  says  he 
can  pile  nail  kegs." 

In  a  couple  of  days  the  department  manager  went 
into  the  office  again  and  said  to  the  head  of  the  house, 

328 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"That  boy  is  piling  nail  kegs  so  well  that  he  can  do 
something  else." 

That  same  young  fellow  went  from  floor  to  floor. 
In  less  than  two  years  he  was  on  the  road  and  made 
a  brilliant  record  for  the  house.  To-day  he  is  general 
salesman  for  the  state  of  Texas  for  a  very  large 
wholesale  hardware  house  and  is  making  several  thou- 
sand dollars  each  year. 

If  a  wholesaler  cannot  find  a  man  who  is  expe- 
rienced in  his  line  in  the  territory  that  he  wishes  to 
cover,  and  cannot  get  a  good  experienced  road  man 
at  all,  the  next  best  ones  he  turns  to  are  his  own  stock 
boys.  In  fact,  the  stock  is  the  training  school  for 
men  on  the  road. 

A  bright  young  man,  wherever  he  may  be,  if  he 
wishes  to  get  on  the  road,  should  form  the  acquaint- 
ance of  traveling  men,  because  lightning  may  some- 
time strike  him  and  he  will  have  a  place  before  he 
knows  it.  A  gentleman  who  is  now  manager  of  a 
large  New  York  engraving  house  once  told  me  how 
he  hired  one  of  his  best  salesmen. 

"When  I  was  on  the  road  my  business  used  to  carry 
me  into  the  colleges.  Our  house  gets  up  class  invita- 
tions and  things  of  that  kind.  Now  I  got  this  man  in 
this  way,"  said  he:  "I  especially  disliked  going  to 
the  Phillips-Exeter  Academy  at  Exeter,  New  Hamp- 
shire, owing  to  the  poor  train  service  and  worse  hotel 
accommodation. 

"The  graduating  class  at  this  academy  had  a  nice 

329 


Tales  of  the  Road 

order  to  place,  and  I  called  with  original  designs  and 
prices.  The  committee  refused  to  decide  until  they 
had  received  designs  and  prices  from  our  competitors, 
so  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  bide-a-wee.  When 
I  called  I  made  it  a  point  to  make  friends  with  the 
chairman,  who  hailed  from  South  Dakota  and  was  all 
to  the  good.  He  was  bright  and  distinctly  wise  to  his 
job.  By  a  little  scouting  I  found  out  when  the  last 
competing  representative  was  to  call  and  speak  his 
little  piece. 

"The  next  day  I  took  a  'flyer,'  that  is,  called  with- 
out making  an  appointment.  I  arranged  to  arrive  at 
my  man's  room  in  the  afternoon  when  his  recitations 
were  over.  His  greeting  was  characteristic  of  the 
westerner, — as  if  we  had  known  one  another  all  our 
lives.  He  was  a  runner  and  did  the  one  hundred 
yards  dash  in  ten  seconds  flat  and  was  the  school's 
champion.  I  talked  athletics  to  beat  the  band  and 
got  him  interested.  He  was  unable  to  get  the  com- 
mittee together  until  seven  o'clock  that  evening, 
which  meant  that  I  would  have  to  stay  in  the  town 
over  night,  as  the  last  train  went  to  Boston  around 
6 130  o'clock.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  stay, 
as  you  naturally  know  what  bad  business  it  would  be 
to  leave  a  committee  about  to  decide. 

"I  saw  a  platinum  photograph  of  myself  sleeping 
in  that  third-class  hotel.  I  kept  on  talking  athletics, 
however,  and  the  chairman  was  good  enough  to  ask 
me  to  dine  with  him.  After  dinner  we  played  bil- 

330 


Tales  of  the  Road 

liards  and  he  beat  me.  At  6 145  we  adjourned  to  his 
room.  He  and  his  committee  excused  themselves  to 
hold  their  meeting  in  a  room  on  the  floor  below.  I 
was  smoking  one  of  the  chairman's  cigars,  and  was 
congratulating  myself  that  things  looked  encourag- 
ing. The  cigar  was  a  good  one,  too.  In  half  an  hour 
the  committee  returned.  The  fellows  lined  up  on  the 
sofa,  side  by  side,  while  the  chairman  straddled  his 
chair  and  addressed  me  as  follows : 

"  'Well,  Mr.  Rogers,  we  have  discussed  the  matter 
thoroughly  and  as  impartially  I  think  as  any  commit- 
tee of  fellows  could  do,  who  had  the  interest  of  their 
class  seriously  at  heart.  In  a  way  we  regret  that  you 
took  the  trouble  to  call,  because,  to  speak  frankly,  we 
would  rather  write  what  we  have  to  say,  than  to  be 
placed  in  the  somewhat  embarrassing  position  of  tell- 
ing you  orally.' 

"  My  cigar,  somehow  or  other,  no  longer  tasted 
good,  and  I  was  holding  it  in  an  apathetic  sort  of  a 
way,  not  caring  whether  it  went  out  or  not.  The  bum 
hotel  loomed  up  in  front  of  me  also. 

Continuing,  the  chairman  said: 

"  'We  have  received  something  like  six  other  esti- 
mates from  different  firms,  and  I  must  say  some  of 
their  designs  are  "peaches."  There  are  two  firms 
whose  prices  are  lower  than  yours,  too.  We  like  your 
designs  very  much,  but  I  think  if  you  place  yourself 
in  our  position  you  will  see  we  have  no  other  alterna- 
tive but  to  place  the  order  with  another  house. 

331 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"He  shifted  his  position  uneasily  and  added  with 
that  final  air  we  know  so  well,  'I  want  to  thank  you 
for  your  interest  and  trouble  and  we  certainly  appre- 
ciate the  opportunity  of  seeing  what  you  had  to  offer.' 

"This  was  a  nice  sugar  coat  on  a  bitter  pill,  but  I 
didn't  want  to  take  my  medicine.  I  stood  up,  pre- 
pared to  make  a  strong  and  expiring  effort  and  to 
explain  what  an  easy  thing  it  was  for  a  firm  to  quote 
a  low  price,  etc.,  when  the  chairman  came  over 
quickly  with  extended  hand  and  said,  'Now,  we  un- 
derstand how  you  feel,  old  man,  but  there  is  no  use 
prolonging  this  matter,  which  I  assure  you  we  regret 
more  than  we  express.  However,'  turning  to  the  other 
fellows,  4I  think  we  are  all  agreed  on  one  thing,  and 
that  is  we  are  willing  to  make  an  exception  in  this 
case,  and,' — here  the  corners  of  his  mouth  twitched 
and  his  eyes  brightened  up,  'we  will  give  you  the 
order  on  one  condition.'  I  quickly  asked  what  the 
condition  was.  'And  that  is,'  all  the  other  fellows 
were  standing  up,  smiling,  'we  will  give  you  the  order 
if  you'll  take  us  to  the  show  to-night !' 

"It  was  well  done  and  a  clever  piece  of  acting. 

"The  show,  by  the  way,  held  in  the  town  opera 
house,  was  a  thrilling  melodrama,  and  positively,  it 
was  so  rotten  it  was  good.  The  heroine  was  a  girl 
who  sold  peanuts  in  one  of  the  Exeter  stores,  and  the 
villain  was  the  village  barber;  I  have  forgotten  who 
the  hero  was,  but  he  was  a  'bird.'  The  best  part  of 
the  play  was  near  the  end.  The  villain  was  supposed 

332 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  have  murdered  the  hero  by  smashing  him  on  the 
head  with  an  iron  bar  and  then  pushing  him  into  the 
river.  At  a  critical  stage,  the  hero  walked  serenely 
on  the  scene  and  confronted  the  villain.  The  villain 
assumed  the  good  old  stereotyped  posture  and  shouted 
out  with  a  horrified  expression,  'Stand  back,  stand 
back,  your  hands  is  cold  and  slimy !'  That  busted  up 
the  show,  as  the  audience,  composed  largely  of  the 
Academy  boys,  stood  up  as  one  and  yelled.  They 
finally  started  a  cheer,  'Stand  back,  stand  back,  your 
hands  is  cold  and  slimy!'  They  repeated  this  cheer 
vigorously  three  times,  and  then  crowded  out  of  the 
house.  That  cheer  can  be  heard  at  the  Academy  to- 
day. 

"My  chairman  friend  insisted  upon  putting  me  up 
for  the  night  in  a  spare  room  in  the  dormitory;  this 
saved  my  life. 

"The  next  morning  I  joined  the  boys  in  chapel, 
and  was  very  much  surprised  to  find  the  entire  student 
body  and  faculty  clapping  their  hands  when  I  became 
seated.  This  was  certainly  a  new  one  on  me.  I  turned 
to  my  chairman  friend;  he  was  grinning  broadly  as 
if  he  enjoyed  the  situation.  What  was  I  expected  to 
do,  for  Heaven's  sake — get  up  and  make  a  speech? 
My  mind  was  relieved  by  the  President  addressing 
the  boys  about  alien  topics.  I  learned  afterwards  that 
it  was  an  old  custom  with  Phillips-Exeter  to  applaud 
when  a  stranger  entered  the  chapel.  This  is  espe- 

333 


Tales  of  the  Road 

cially  appropriate  in  the  case  of  an  old  'grad.'  re- 
turning, but  certainly  disturbing  to  an  outsider. 

"I  did  further  business  with  my  friend,  also,  when 
he  was  at  Harvard.  He  did  such  a  smooth  job  on  me 
that  when  I  became  manager  of  my  house  I  sent  for 
him  when  we  had  the  first  opening  on  the  road.  I 
asked  him  how  he  would  like  to  come  with  us.  He 
came.  He  has  been  with  our  company  now  for  two 
years  and  is  getting  on  fine." 

College  boys  as  a  rule  are  not  looking  for  positions 
on  the  road,  but  if  more  of  them  would  do  so  there 
would  be  more  college  graduates  scoring  a  business 
success  and  more  traveling  men  with  the  right  sort  of 
educational  equipment.  But  they  should  begin  young. 
While  traveling  on  the  road  they  would  find  many 
opportunities  for  self-advancement.  The  traveling 
man  who  will  try  can  make  almost  anything  he  wishes 
of  himself. 

The  head  of  the  house  must  be  on  the  lookout  for 
the  floater.  In  every  city  there  are  many  professional 
job  finders.  About  the  only  time  they  ever  put  up  a 
good,  strong  line  of  conversation  is  when  they  talk  for 
a  job.  After  they  get  a  good  guaranteed  salary  they 
go  to  sleep  until  their  contract  is  at  an  end,  and  then 
they  hunt  for  another  job.  These  are  the  chaps  that 
the  "old  man"  must  look  out  for  with  a  sharp  eye. 

When  it  is  known  that  a  good  position  in  a  house 
is  open,  scores  of  applications,  by  mail  and  in  person, 
come  in  fdr  thfe  pfiat£  from  all  kinids  of  m£n.  I  knew 

334 


Tales  o£  the  Road 

of  one  instance  where  a  most  capable  head  of  a  house 
thought  well  of  one  salesman  who  applied  by  letter. 
Before  fully  making  up  his  mind  about  him,  however, 
he  sent  a  trusted  man  to  look  him  up.  He  found  that 
the  man  who  made  the  application,  while  a  capable 
salesman  and  a  gentleman,  was  unfortunately  a  drunk- 
ard and  a  gambler. 

Of  this  kind  of  man  there  are  not  so  many.  A 
man  on  the  road  who  "lushes"  and  fingers  chips  does 
not  last  long.  To  be  sure,  most  men  on  the  road  are 
cosmopolitan  in  their  habits  and  they  nearly  all  know, 
perhaps  better  than  any  other  class  of  men,  when  to 
say,  "no." 

No  less  important  than  hiring  salesmen  is  the 
handling  of  them.  The  house  spoils  for  itself  many 
a  good  man  after  it  gets  him.  The  easiest  way  is  by 
writing  kicking  letters.  The  man  on  the  road  is  a 
human  being.  Generally  he  has  a  home  and  a  family 
and  friends.  He  is  working  for  them,  straining  every 
nerve  that  he  may  do  something  for  the  ones  he  cher- 
ishes. He  takes  a  deep  and  constant  interest  in  his 
business.  He  feels  that  he  is  a  part  of  the  firm  he 
works  for  and  knows  full  well  that  their  interest  is 
his  interest  and  that  he  can  only  succeed  for  himself 
by  making  a  success  for  the  firm.  When,  feeling  all 
of  this  within  himself,  he  gets  a  kicking  letter  be- 
cause he  has  been  bold  enough  to  break  some  little 
business  rule  when  he  knows  it  should  have  been  done, 
he  grows  discouraged. 

335 


Tales  of  the  Road 

And,  alas,  for  the  comfort  of  the  traveling  man ! 
there  are  too  few  houses  that  have  due  respect  for  his 
feelings.  The  traveling  man  is  on  the  spot.  He 
knows  at  first  hand  what  should  be  done  His  orders 
should  be  supreme.  His  work  for  a  year  should  be 
considered  as  a  whole.  If,  at  the  end  of  his  contract, 
what  he  has  done  is  not  satisfactory,  let  him  be  told 
so  in  a  lump.  Continual  petty  hammering  at  him 
drives  him  to  despair. 

For  example :  I  know  of  one  firm  in  the  wholesale 
hat  business,  that  raised  hob  in  a  letter  with  their 
best  man  because  he  would,  in  selling  dozen  lots  to 
customers,  specify  sizes  on  the  goods  that  his  cus- 
tomer wished, — a  most  absurd  thing  for  the  house 
to  do.  The  merchant  must,  of  course,  keep  his  own 
stock  clean  and  not  become  over-stocked  on  certain 
sizes.  If  he  has  been  handling  a  certain  "number" 
and  has  sold  out  all  of  the  small  sizes,  only  the  large 
ones  remaining,  it  would  be  foolish  for  him  to  buy 
regular  sizes  and  get  in  his  lot  the  usual  proportion 
of  large  ones.  All  He  needs  and  will  need  for  several 
months,  perhaps,  will  be  the  smaller  run  of  sizes. 
Now,  the  salesman  on  the  spot  and  the  merchant 
know  just  what  should  be  ordered,  and  if  the  house 
kicks  on  the  salesman  on  this  point,  as  did  this  house, 
they  act  absurdly. 

Not  only  do  too  many  houses  write  kicking  letters 
to  their  men  on  the  road,  but  fail  to  show  the  proper 
appreciation  for  their  salesmen's  efforts  to  get  good 

336 


Tales  of  the  Road 

results.  When  a  salesman  has  done  good  work  and 
knows  it,  he  loves  to  be  told  so,  craves  in  the  midst 
of  his  hard  work  a  little  word  of  good  cheer.  And 
the  man  handling  salesmen  who  is  wise  enough  to 
write  a  few  words  of  encouragement  and  appreciation 
to  his  salesmen  on  the  road,  knows  not  how  much 
these  few  words  help  them  to  succeed  in  greater  meas- 
ure. It  is  a  mistake  for  the  "Old  Man"  to  feel  that 
if  he  writes  or  says  too  many  kind  words  to  his  sales- 
men, he  will  puff  them  up.  This  is  the  reason  many 
refrain  from  giving  words  of  encouragement.  The 
man  on  the  road,  least  of  all  men,  is  liable  to  get  the 
swelled  head.  No  one  learns  quicker  than  he  that 
one  pebble  does  not  make  a  whole  beach. 

Another  way  in  which  a  house  can  handle  its  sales- 
men badly  is  by  not  treating  his  trade  right.  Many 
firms  that  carry  good  strong  lines  persistently  dog  the 
customer  after  the  goods  have  been  shipped.  When- 
ever a  house  abuses  its  customers  it  also  does  a  wrong 
to  its  salesmen.  I  know  of  one  firm,  I  will  not  say 
just  where,  that  has  had  several  men  quit — and  good 
salesmen,  too — in  the  last  two  or  three  years,  because 
this  firm  did  not  treat  its  salesmen's  customers  right. 
For  this  reason,  and  this  reason  only,  the  salesmen 
went  to  other  firms,  that  knew  how  to  handle  them 
and  their  customers  as  men.  With  their  new  houses 
they  are  succeeding. 

Too  many  heads  of  wholesale  firms  get  "stuck  on 
themselves"  when  they  see  orders  rolling  in  to  them. 

337 


Tales  of  the  Road 

They  fail  to  realize  the  hard  work  their  salesmen  do 
in  getting  these  orders.  I  know  of  one  firm  that  al- 
most drove  one  of  the  best  salesmen  in  the  United 
States  away  from  it  for  the  reasons  that  I  have  given. 
They  dogged  him,  they  didn't  write  him  a  kind  word, 
they  badgered  his  trade,  they  thought  they  had  him, 
hard  and  fast.  Finally,  however,  he  wrote  to  them 
that,  contract  or  no  contract,  he  was  positively  going 
to  quit.  Ah,  and  then  you  should  have  seen  them  bend 
the  knee !  This  man  traveled  for  a  Saint  Louis  firm. 
His  home  was  in  Chicago,  and  when  he  came  in  home 
from  his  trip  his  house  wrote  him  to  come  down  imme- 
diately. He  did  not  reply,  but  his  wife  wrote  them — 
and  don't  you  worry  about  the  wives  of  traveling  men 
not  being  up  to  snuff — that  he  had  gone  to  New  York. 
Next  morning  a  member  of  the  firm  was  in  Chicago. 
Hewent  at  once  to  call  upon  their  salesman's  wife.  He 
tried  to  jolly  her  along,  but  she  was  wise.  He  asked 
for  her  husband's  address  and  she  told  him  that  the 
only  address  he  had  left  was  care  of  another  whole- 
sale firm  in  their  line  in  New  York, — she  supposed  he 
could  reach  her  husband  there.  Then  the  Saint  Louis 
man  was  wild.  He  put  the  wires  to  working  at  once 
and  telegraphed:  "By  no  means  make  any  contract 
anywhere  until  you  see  us.  Won't  you  promise  this  ? 
Letter  coming  care  of  Imperial." 

Then  he  was  sweet  as  pie  to  the  salesman's  wife, 
took  her  and  her  daughter  to  the  matinee,  a  nice 
luncheon,  and  all  that.  In  a  few  days  the  salesman 

338 


Tales  of  the  Road 

I  speak  of  went  down  to  Saint  Louis.  The  members 
of  his  firm  took  off  their  hats  to  him  and  raised  his 
salary  a  jump  of  $2,400  a  year. 

How  much  trouble  they  would  have  saved  them- 
selves, and  how  much  better  feeling  there  would  have 
been  if  they  had  only  handled  this  man  right  in  the 
beginning! 

There  are  some  heads  of  firms,  however,  who  do 
know  how  to  handle  their  salesmen.  One  of  the  very 
best  men  in  the  United  States  is  head  of  a  wholesale 
hardware  firm.  He  has  on  the  road  more  than  a  hun- 
dred men  and  they  all  fairly  worship  him.  I  remem- 
ber many  years  ago  seeing  a  letter  that  he  had  written 
to  the  boys  on  the  road  for  him.  He  had  been  fishing 
and  made  a  good  catch.  He  sent  them  all  photo- 
graphs of  himself  and  his  big  fish  and  told  the  boys 
that  they  mustn't  work  too  hard,,  that  they  were  all 
doing  first  rate,  and  that  if  they  ever  got  where  there 
was  a  chance  to  skin  him  at  fishing,  to  take  a  day  off 
and  that  he  would  give  prizes  to  the  men  who  would 
out-catch  him.  This  is  just  a  sample  of  the  way  in 
which  he  handles  his  men.  Occasionally  he  writes 
a  general  letter  to  his  men,  cheering  them  along.  He 
never  loses  a  good  man  and  has  one  of  the  best  forces 
of  salesmen  in  America.  They  have  made  his  success 
and  he  knows  it  and  appreciates  it. 

Another  head  of  a  firm  who  handles  his  salesmen 
well  is  in  the  wholesale  shoe  business.  Twice  each 
year  he  calls  all  of  his  salesmen  together  when  he  is 

339 


Tales  of  the  Road 

marking  samples.  He  asks  them  their  opinion  about 
this  thing  or  that  thing  and  listens  to  what  his  men 
have  to  say.  He  has  built  up  the  largest  shoe  business 
in  the  United  States.  After  the  marking  of  samples 
is  all  over,  he  gives  a  banquet  to  his  men  and  has  each 
one  of  them  make  a  little  speech.  He  himself  ad- 
dresses them,  and  when  they  leave  the  table  there  is 
a  cordial  feeling  between  the  head  of  the  house  and 
his  traveling  men. 

He  also  puts  wonderful  enthusiasm  into  his  men. 
Here  are  some  of  his  mottoes:  "Enthusiasm  is  our 
great  staple,"  "Get  results,"  "No  slow  steppers 
wanted  around  this  house,"  "If  this  business  is  not 
your  business,  send  in  your  trunks,"  "All  at  it,  always 
at  it,  brings  success."  He  has  taught  his  salesmen 
a  college  yell  which  runs  like  this :  "Keep-the-qual-ity- 
up."  Only  a  few  years  ago  the  watchword  of  this 
house  was:  "Watch  us — Five  millions"  (a  year). 
Now  it  is :  "A  million  a  month,"  and  by  their  meth- 
ods they  will  soon  be  there. 

This  same  man  has  the  keenest  appreciation  of  the 
value  of  a  road  experience.  Some  time  ago  he  was 
in  need  of  an  advertising  manager.  If  he  had  fol- 
lowed the  usual  practice  he  would  have  gone  outside 
the  house  and  hired  a  professional  "ad  manager." 
But  he  had  a  notion  that  the  man  who  knew  enough 
about  salesmanship  and  about  his  special  goods  to  sell 
them  on  the  road  could  "make  sentiment"  for  those 
same  goods  by  the  use  of  printers'  ink.  Therefore 

340 


Tales  of  the  Road 

he  put  one  of  his  crack  salesmen  into  the  position  and 
now  pays  him  $6,000  a  year.  And  the  man  has  made 
good  in  great  shape. 

Nor  does  he  stop  with  promoting  men  from  the 
ranks  of  his  organization.  If  a  salesman  in  his  house 
makes  a  good  showing,  he  fastens  him  to  the  firm 
still  tighter  by  selling  to  him  shares  of  good  dividend- 
paying  stock. 

He  knows  one  thing  that  too  few  men  in  business 
do  know :  That  a  man  can  best  help  himself  by  help- 
ing others ! 


341 


w 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HEARTS  BEHIND  THE  ORDER  BOOK. 

ITH  all  of  his  power  of  enduring  disappoint- 
ment and  changing  a  shadow  to  a  spot  of 
sunshine,  there  yet  come  days  of  loneliness 
into  the  life  of  the  commercial  traveler — days  when 
he  cannot  and  will  not  break  the  spell.  There  is  a 
sweet  enchantment,  anyway,  about  melancholy;  'tis 
then  that  the  heart  yearns  for  what  it  knows  awaits 
it.  Perhaps  the  wayfarer  has  missed  his  mail;  per- 
haps the  wife  whom  he  has  not  seen  for  many  weeks, 
writes  him  now  that  she  suffers  because  of  their  sep- 
aration and  how  she  longs  for  his  return. 

I  sat  one  day  in  a  big  red  rocking  chair  in  the 
Knutsford  Hotel,  in  Salt  Lake.  I  had  been  away 
from  home  for  nearly  three  months.  It  was  drawing 
near  the  end  of  the  season.  The  bell  boys  sat  with 
folded  hands  upon  their  bench ;  the  telegraph  instru- 
ment had  ceased  clicking;  the  typewriter  was  still. 
The  only  sound  heard  was  the  dripping  of  the  water 
at  the  drinking  fount.  The  season's  rush  was  over. 
Nothing  moved  across  the  floor  except  the  shadows 
chasing  away  the  sunshine  which  streamed  at  times 
through  the  skylight.  Half  a  dozen  other  wanderers 

342 


Tales  of  the  Road 

— all  disconsolate — sat  facing  the  big  palm  in  the 
center  of  the  room.  No  one  spoke  a  word.  Perhaps 
we  were  all  turning  the  blue  curls  of  smoke  that 
floated  up  from  our  cigars  into  visions  of  home. 

The  first  to  move  was  one  who  had  sat  for  half  an 
hour  in  deep  meditation.  He  went  softly  over  to  the 
music  box  near  the  drinking  fount  and  dropped  a 
nickel  into  the  slot.  Then  he  came  back  again  to  his 
chair  and  fell  into  reverie.  The  tones  of  the  old 
music  box  were  sweet,  like  the  swelling  of  rich  bells. 
They  pealed  through  the  white  corridor  "Old  Ken- 
tucky Home."  Every  weary  wanderer  began  to  hum 
the  air.  When  the  chorus  came,  one,  in  a  low  sweet 
tenor,  sang  just  audibly: 

"Weep  no  more,  my  lady, 

"Weep  no  more  to-day; 

"We  will  sing  one  song,  for  my  old  Kentucky  home, 
"For  my  old  Kentucky  home  far  away." 

When  the  music  ceased  he  of  meditation  went 
again  and  dropped  in  another  coin.  Out  of  the  magic 
box  came  once  more  sweet  strains — this  time  those 
of  Cavalleria  Rusticana,  which  play  so  longingly  upon 
the  noblest  passions  of  the  soul. 

The  magic  box  played  its  entire  repertoire,  which 
fitted  so  well  the  mood  of  the  disconsolate  listeners. 
The  first  air  was  repeated,  and  the  second.  This  was 
enough — too  much.  Quietly  the  party  disbanded, 
leaving  behind  only  the  man  of  meditation  to  listen 
to  the  dripping  of  the  fount. 

343 


* 


Tales  of  the  Road 

Not  only  are  there  moments  of  melancholy  on  the 
road,  but  those  of  tragedy  as  well.  The  field  of  the 
traveling  man  is  wide  and,  while  there  bloom  in  it 
fragrant  blossoms  and  in  it  there  wax  luscious  fruits, 
the  way  is  set  with  many  thorns. 

During  the  holidays  of  1903  I  was  in  a  western 
city.  On  one  of  these  days,  long  to  be  remembered, 
I  took  luncheon  with  a  young  man  who  had  married 
only  a  few  months  before.  This  trip  marked  his 
first  separation  from  his  wife  since  their  wedding. 
Every  day  there  came  a  letter  from  "Dolly"  to  "Ned" 
— some  days  three.  The  wife  loves  her  drummer 
husband;  and  the  most  loved  and  petted  of  all  the 
women  in  the  world  is  the  wife  of  the  man  on  the 
road.  When  they  are  apart  they  long  to  be  together; 
when  they  meet  they  tie  again  the  broken  threads  of 
their  life-long  honeymoon. 

As  we  sat  at  the  table  over  our  coffee  a  bell  boy 
brought  into  my  friend  letter  "97"  for  that  trip.  His 
wife  numbered  her  letters.  Reading  the  letter  my 
friend  said  to  me :  "Jove,  I  wish  I  could  be  at  home 
in  Chicago  to-day,  or  else,  like  you,  have  Dolly  along 
with  me.  Just  about  now  I  would  be  going  to  the 
matinee  with  her.  She  writes  me  she  is  going  to  get 
tickets  for  to-day  and  take  my  sister  along,  as  that 
is  the  nearest  thing  to  having  me.  Gee,  how  I'd  love 
to  be  with  her !" 

After  luncheon  we  went  to  our  sample  rooms, 
which  adjoined.  Late  in  the  afternoon  I  heard  the 

344 


Tales  of  the  Road 

newsboys  calling  out:  "Extra!  Extra!  All  about 
the  *  *  *"  I  know  not  what.  My  friend  came 
into  my  room. 

"What  is  that  they  are  calling  out?"  he  said. 

We  listened.  We  heard  the  words :  "All  about  the 
Great  Chicago  Theater  Fire." 

Three  steps  at  a  time  we  bounded  down  stairs  and 
bought  papers.  When  my  friend  saw  the  head-lines 
he  exclaimed:  "Hundreds  burned  alive  in  the  Iro- 
quois  Theater.  Good  God,  man,  Dolly  went  to  that 
theater  to-day!" 

"Pray  God  she  didn't,"  said  I. 

We  rushed  to  the  telegraph  office  and  my  friend 
wired  to  his  father:  "Is  Dolly  lost?  Wire  me  all 
particulars  and  tell  me  the  truth." 

We  went  to  the  newspaper  office  to  see  the  lists  of 
names  as  they  came  in  over  the  wire,  scanning  each 
ne\v  list  with  horrified  anxiety.  On  one  sheet  we  saw 
his  own  family  name.  The  given  name  was  near  to, 
but  not  exactly,  that  of  his  wife. 

May  a  man  pray  for  the  death  of  his  near  beloved 
kin — for  the  death  of  one  he  loves  much — that  she 
may  be  spared  whom  he  loves  more  ?  Not  that,  but 
he  will  pray  that  both  be  spared. 

Back  to  the  hotel  we  ran.  No  telegram.  Back 
to  the  newspaper  office  and  back  to  the  hotel  again. 

A  messenger  boy  put  his  hand  on  the  hotel  door. 
Three  leaps,  and  my  friend  snatched  the  message 
from  the  boy.  He  started  to  open  it.  He  faltered. 

345 


Tales  of  the  Road 

He  pressed  the  little  yellow  envelope  to  his  heart, 
then  handed  it  to  me. 

"You  open  it  and  pray  for  me,"  he  said. 

The  message  read:  "All  our  immediate  family  es- 
caped the  horrible  disaster.  Dolly  is  alive  and  thank- 
ful. She  tried  but  could  not  get  tickets.  Thank 
God." 

All  do  not  escape  the  calamity  of  death,  however, 
as  did  my  friend  Ned.  The  business  of  the  man  on 
the  road  is  such  that  he  is  ofttimes  cut  off  from  his 
mail  and  even  telegrams  for  several  days  at  a  time. 
Again,  many  must  be  several  days  away  from  their 
homes  utterly  unable  to  get  back.  When  death  comes 
then  it  strikes  the  hardest  blow. 

A  friend  of  mine  once  told  me  this  story: 

"I  was  once  opened  up  in  an  adjoining  room  to  a 
clothing  man's.  When  he  left  home  his  mother  was 
very  low  and  not  expected  to  live  for  a  great  while ; 
but  on  his  trip  go  he  must.  He  had  a  large  family, 
and  many  personal  debts.  He  could  not  stay  at  home 
because  no  one  else  could  fill  his  place  on  the  road. 
The  position  of  a  traveling  man,  I  believe,  is  seldom 
fully  appreciated.  It  is  with  the  greatest  care  that, 
as  you  know,  a  wholesale  house  selects  its  salesmen 
for  the  road.  When  a  good  man  gets  into  a  position 
it  is  very  hard — in  fact  impossible — for  him  to  drop 
out  and  let  some  one  else  take  his  place  for  one  trip 
even.  Of  course  you  know  there  isn't  any  place  that 
some  other  man  cannot  fill,  but  the  other  man  is 

346 


Tales  of  the  Road 

usually  so  situated  that  either  he  will  not  or  does  not 
care  to  make  a  change. 

uMy  clothing  friend  was  at  Seattle  on  his  trip. 
His  home,  where  his  mother  lay  sick,  was  in  Saint 
Louis — nearly  four  days  away.  The  last  letter  he 
had  received  from  home  told  him  that  his  mother 
was  sinking.  The  same  day  on  which  he  received 
this  letter  a  customer  came  into  his  room  about  ten 
o'clock — and  he  was  a  tough  customer,  too.  He 
found  fault  with  everything  and  tore  up  the  samples. 
He  was  a  hard  man  to  deal  with.  You  know  how 
it  is  when  you  strike  one  of  these  suspicious  fellows. 
He  has  no  confidence  in  anybody  and  makes  the  life 
of  us  poor  wanderers  anything  but  a  joyous  one. 

"Under  the  circumstances,  of  which  he  said  noth- 
ing, my  clothing  friend  was  not  in  the  best  mood, 
He  could  not  help  thinking  of  home  and  feeling  that 
he  should  be  there;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  had  a 
duty  to  do.  He  simply  must  continue  the  trip.  He 
had  just  taken  on  his  position  with  a  new  firm  and 
needed  to  show,  on  this  trip,  the  sort  of  stuff  in  him. 
He  had  been  doing  first  rate;  still,  he  must  keep  it  up. 

"I  happened  to  drop  in,  as  I  was  not  busy  for  a 
few  minutes,  while  he  was  showing  goods.  I  never 
like  to  go  into  a  man's  sample  room  while  he  is  wait- 
ing on  any  one.  Often  a  new  man  on  the  road  gets 
in  the  way  of  doing  this  and  doesn't  know  any  better. 
Selling  a  bill  of  goods,  even  to  an  old  customer,  takes 
a  whole  lot  of  energy.  No  man  likes  to  be  inter- 

347 


Tales  of  the  Road 

rupted  while  he  is  at  it.  When  it  comes  to  persuading 
a  new  man  to  buy  of  you,  you  have,  frequently,  a 
hard  task.  There  are  many  reasons  why  a  customer 
should  not  leave  his  old  house.  Maybe  he  is  still 
owing  money  to  the  firm  he  has  been  dealing  with 
and  needs  credit.  Maybe  the  salesman  for  that  firm 
is  a  personal  friend.  These  are  two  things  hard  to 
overcome — financial  obligations  and  friendship. 

"At  any  rate,  my  clothing  friend  was  having  much 
difficulty.  He  was  making  the  best  argument  he 
could,  telling  the  customer  it  mattered  not  what  firm 
he  dealt  with,  that  firm  was  going  to  collect  a  hun- 
dred cents  on  the  dollar  when  his  bill  was  due;  and 
that  any  firm  he  dealt  with  would  be  under  obliga- 
tions to  him  for  the  business  he  had  given  to  it  in- 
stead of  his  being  under  obligations  to  the  firm.  He 
was  also  arguing  against  personal  friendship  and  say- 
ing he  would  very  soon  find  out  whether  the  man  he 
was  dealing  with  was  his  friend  or  not  if  he  quit 
buying  goods  from  him.  He  was  getting  down  to  the 
hard  pan  argument  that  the  merchant,  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, should  do  his  business  where  he  thought 
he  could  do  it  to  best  advantage  to  himself. 

uThe  merchant  would  not  start  to  picking  out  a 
line  himself,  so  my  friend  laid  on  a  table  a  line  of 
goods  and  was,  as  a  final  struggle,  trying  to  persuade 
the  merchant  to  buy  that  selection,  a  good  thing  to 
do.  It  is  often  as  easy  to  sell  a  merchant  a  whole 
line  of  goods  as  one  item.  But  the  merchant  said  no. 

348 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"Just  as  I  started  out  of  the  room,  in  came  a  bell 
boy  with  a  telegram.  My  clothing  friend,  as  he  read 
the  message,  looked  as  if  he  were  hitched  to  an  elec- 
tric wire.  He  stood  shocked — with  the  telegram  in 
his  hand — not  saying  a  word.  Then  he  turned  to 
me,  handed  me  the  message  and,  without  speaking, 
went  over,  laid  down  on  the  bed,  and  buried  his  face 
in  a  pillow.  Poor  fellow.  I  never  felt  so  sorry  for 
anybody  in  my  life!  The  message  told  that  his 
mother  was  dead. 

"I  asked  the  stubborn  customer  to  come  into  the 
next  room,  where  I  showed  him  the  message. 

"  'After  all,  a  "touch  of  pity  makes  the  whole 
world  akin",'  the  merchant  said  to  me: 

"  'Just  tell  your  friend,  when  he  is  in  shape  again 
to  talk  business,  that  he  may  send  me  the  line  he 
picked  out  and  that  I  really  like  it  first  rate." 

Sometimes  the  tragedies  of  the  road  show  a 
brighter  side.  Once,  an  old  time  Knight  of  the  Grip, 
said  to  me,  as  we  rode  together: 

"Do  you  know,  a  touching,  yet  a  happy  thing,  hap- 
pened this  morning  down  in  Missoula? 

"I  was  standing  in  my  customer's  store  taking  sizes 
on  his  stock.  I  heard  the  notes  of  a  concertina  and 
soon,  going  to  the  front  door,  I  saw  a  young  girl 
singing  in  the  street.  In  the  street  a  good  looking 
woman  was  pulling  the  bellows  of  the  instrument. 
Beside  her  stood  two  girls — one  of  ten,  another  of 

349 


Tales  of  the  Road 

about  fourteen.  They  took  turns  at  singing — some- 
times in  the  same  song. 

"All  three  wore  neat  black  clothes — not  a  spark 
of  color  about  them  except  the  sparkling  keys  of  the 
concertina.  They  were  not  common  looking,  poorly 
clad,  dirty  street  musicians.  They  were  refined,  even 
beautiful.  The  little  group  looked  strangely  out  of 
place.  I  said  to  myself:  'How  have  these  people 
come  to  this?' 

"How  those  two  girls  could  sing!  Their  voices 
were  sweet  and  full.  I  quit  my  business,  and  a  little 
bunch  of  us — two  more  of  the  boys  on  the  road  hav- 
ing joined  me — stood  on  the  sidewalk. 

"The  little  girl  sang  this  song,"  continued  my  com- 
panion, reading  from  a  little  printed  slip : 

"Dark  and  drear  the  world  has  grown  as  I  wan-der 

all  a-lone, 

And  I  hear  the  breezes  sob-bing  thro'  the  pines. 
I  can  scarce  hold  back  my  tears,  when  the  southern 

moon  ap-pears, 

For  'tis  our  humble  cottage  where  it  shines; 
Once  again  we  seem  to  sit,  when  the  eve-ning  lamps 

are  lit, 

With  our  faces  turned  to-ward  the  golden  west, 
When  I  prayed  that  you  and  I  ne'er  would  have  to 

say  'Good-bye,' 
But  that  still  to-gether  we'd  be  laid  to  rest. 

"As  she  sang,  a  lump  kind  of  crawled  up  in  my 
throat.  None  of  us  spoke. 

"She  finished  this  verse  and  went  into  the  crowd 

350 


Tales  of  the  Road 

to  sell  printed  copies  of  their  songs,  leaving  her  older 
sister  to  take  up  the  chorus.  And  I'll  tell  you,  it 
made  me  feel  that  my  lot  was  not  hard  when  I  saw 
one  of  those  sweet,  modest  little  girls  passing  around 
a  cup,  her  mother  playing  in  the  dusty  street,  and  her 
sister  singing, — to  just  any  one  that  would  listen. 

"The  chorus  was  too  much  for  me.  I  bought  the 
songs.  Here  it  is : 

CHORUS. 

"Dear  old  girl,  the  rob-in  sings  a-bove  you, 
Dear  old  girl,  it  speaks  of  how  I  love  you, 
The  blind-ing  tears  are  fall-ing, 

As  I  think  of  my  lost  pearl, 
And  my  broken  heart  is  call-ing, 

Calling  you,  dear  old  girl. 

"Just  as  the  older  sister  finished  this  chorus  and 
started  to  roll  down  the  street  a  little  brother,  who 
until  now  had  remained  in  his  baby  carriage  unno- 
ticed, the  younger  girl  came  where  we  were.  I  had 
to  throw  in  a  dollar.  We  all  chipped  in  something. 
One  of  the  boys  put  his  fingers  deep  into  the  cup  and 
let  drop  a  coin.  Tears  were  in  his  eyes.  He  went  to 
the  hotel  without  saying  a  word. 

"The  little  girl  went  away,  but  soon  she  came  back 
and  said:  'One  of  you  gentlemen  has  made  a  mis- 
take. You  aimed,  mama  says,  to  give  me  a  nickel, 
but  here  is  a  five-dollar  gold  piece.' 

"  'It  must  be  the  gentleman  who  has  gone  into  the 
hotel,'  said  I. 


Tales  of  the  Road 

"  Then  I'll  go  find  him,'  said  the  little  girl. 
4 Where  is  it?' 

"Well,  sir,  what  do  you  suppose  happened?  The 
little  girl  told  the  man  who'd  dropped  in  the  five, 
how  her  father,  who  had  been  well  to  do,  was  killed 
in  a  mine  accident  in  Colorado  and  that  although  he 
was  considerable  to  the  good,  creditors  just  wiped 
up  all  he  had  left  his  family.  The  mother — the  fam- 
ily was  Italian — had  taught  her  children  music  and 
they  boldly  struck  out  to  make  their  living  in  the 
streets.  It  was  the  best  they  could  do. 

"The  man  who  had  put  in  the  five  was  a  jewelry 
salesman  from  New  York.  While  out  on  a  trip  he 
had  lost  his  wife  and  three  children  in  the  Slocum 
disaster.  He  just  sent  the  whole  family, — the  mother, 
the  two  sisters,  and  the  baby — to  New  York  and  told 
them  to  go  right  into  his  home  and  live  there — that 
he  would  see  them  through. 

"I  was  down  at  the  depot  when  the  family  went 
aboard,  and  it  was  beautiful  to  see  the  mother  take 
that  man's  hand  in  both  of  hers  and  the  young  girls 
hug  him  and  kiss  him  like  he  was  their  father." 


352 


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